


Stagnation

by freedomworm



Series: Going [3]
Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Ableism, Angst, Canon Disabled Character, F/M, Fictional Disease, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Past Torture, Retrograde Amnesia, Slow Build, Smoking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-11
Updated: 2016-02-04
Packaged: 2018-02-20 17:22:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 94,586
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2436803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freedomworm/pseuds/freedomworm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Life moves on, but for Julian, the past does not seem content with staying in the past. No, it insists on coming back to bite him in the ass.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [orchidbreezefc](https://archiveofourown.org/users/orchidbreezefc/gifts).



> I guess I'm dedicating this third part of the Going series to orchidbreezefc for their continued support and commenting on the past parts of this series. The series started out as a self-indulgent sort of project, but I'm not gonna lie; it's been awesome to know that there's actually someone out there who wants to READ what I'm writing. 
> 
> Anyway, this fic begins four years after the end of "Soul Seeks Soul". Julian is twenty four years old and has returned to New York to live in NYC and visit JGS in Westchester.
> 
> As always, I have not beta and all mistakes are my own.

Julian Keller at twenty-four chews peppermint gum like a maniac.

It's a trick –a coping mechanism –in a sixth attempt to kick smoking for good. He's had several telepaths offer to help him quit but no, he says; he's gotta do this the hard way.

As it is, the gum chewing has its downsides.

"Will you stop?" Cessily hisses through the comm link.

Julian is pressed into a dark corner of the hall of an underground bunker. "Sorry," he says, making conscious effort to silence the squelching of gum and teeth.

"Target C is in position," Laura mutters. "I'm moving in; hold positions."

There's the muffled sound of her knocking someone out, and then Laura says, "Proceeding downstairs. Mercury, take the vents and scout the lower floors; Cuckoos, broadcast room, prepare Pixie and Rockslide for teleportation,"

Julian listens to these instructions and hears the affirmatives of the other team members.

From Greymalkin, one of the Cuckoos acts as their mouthpiece through Cerebro; "Pixie and Rockslide are on standby," she declares, "Waiting for further command."

There's a brief silence on the comms and Julian remains where he is, chewing gum silently and waiting, unmoving –hoping…

Laura has a certain habit of not swearing –it's something about not believing in having to say more than necessary –but she still sounds pissed when she says, "Pixie: teleport to Hellion's location," at around the same time an alarm begins to go off and shouting can be heard in the distance.

A flash of magenta signals Megan and Santo's arrival and Julian steps out of the shadows to greet them just as a squadron of the latest threat of uniformed goons march around the corner, guns blazing.

Julian shields them from the first rounds of gunfire, blocking the hall entirely to prevent the soldiers from advancing. Some of them fall from their own ricocheting bullets.

Megan teleports herself and Santo to the other side of the shield, appearing behind the small army to surprise them with a counter attack. While Santo smashes through the forces with a swing of his granite arms, Megan teleports back to the safety behind Julian's telekinetic shields.

With the soldiers distracted by Santo, Julian lets his shields and instead focuses on grasping every automatic weapon in the room and yanking them out of the hands of the enemy.

Pixie then sends out a wave of pink dust that blows toward the men and has them collapsing with dopey smiles on their faces.

Santo alone remains standing, blinking in mild confusion. "Cool," he decides. He steps over a body and joins Megan and Julian. "Anyone else around here?"

"That should be initial back-up," Julian says, shaking his head, "Their manpower will be spread out, so we shouldn't be expecting anyone else unless they figure out ahead of time that we've taken out the guys over here." He turns on his comm link to tell Laura, "West wing threat neutralized; proceeding downward."

Laura makes a noise of acknowledgement. There's shouting in the background of her line and Cessily is shouting things like, "Three men approaching from your seven, X! Five coming around the corner!"

Julian turns down the comms and says, "Alright, let's go."

The facility they've infiltrated is a one of the many distant branches of the F.O.H that have been cropping up across the world lately. In conjunction with S.H.I.E.L.D and the Avengers, the X-Men have been sending teams out to deal with certain facilities. This is the third facility Laura's team has been assigned to within the year, and while they haven't found much in the facilities besides signs that the FOH are arming themselves and setting up labs for unknown purposes, S.H.I.E.L.D has been increasingly insistent that the facilities be found and crushed.

The standing theory (or at least the one with the most bets in the X-Men's pool) is that the F.O.H has gotten their hands on S.H.I.E.L.D data in some way and is planning a large event of nefarious nature in the future.

Julian leads Megan and Santo down the halls, guided by the patchwork blueprint the Cuckoos have broadcasted to everyone based on the various team members' exploration of the facility, and though Santo's footfalls are thunderous, no one comes running.

"X-23," Julian says, "Can we get an update on the situation here?"

"An equipped lab has been found on sublevel three," she says, "It appears empty. There are only guards here. Unloaded boxes in the labs indicate the arrival of scientists is expected but has not yet occurred."

"There's nothing here?" Megan says from behind Julian.

"We can still press them with illegal arms possession and intention for mutant exploitation," Cessily says over the comms, "Some of these boxes have some pretty nasty files –uh, hold on, I've got something that'll get up for good."

"Pixie, join us in the labs, we need to get these boxes to evidence," Laura's disembodied voice says, "Cuckoos, organize a sting operation with S.H.I.E.L.D to apprehend the scientists are supposed to arrive. If we keep this operation out of the press for a few more days, we'll have them with no complications."

Megan teleports Julian and Santo down to where Cessily and Laura are standing in the middle of yet another generic empty laboratory. There are a couple of men strewn across the floor, some moving feebly, but most out cold.

"Pixie," Laura says from where she and Cessily are moving metal and wooden crates into the middle of the room so that they can be teleported away later, "Take Rockslide to the north entrance; make sure no one manages to escape before we can get reinforcements to round them all up. Let's finish this operation neatly."

* * *

Julian's got nineteen missed calls on his answering machine (because he has a very strong belief in landlines) when the team returns from the sting operation four days later.

It's five-fifteen in the afternoon and he's exhausted, but Julian goes to the cupboard, picks out a stick of gum from a tin in the corner, and then crosses over to the living room to take a seat on the couch.

The first message on the machine is innocuous enough: a message from the Xavier Homeless Youth street program reminding Julian that he's promised to volunteer for an upcoming event. The second message from Eliza is a reminder that they're supposed to have dinner on Thursday with her parents.

Julian groans and cringes as the next message is her wondering where the hell he  _is_.

It goes on; Eliza's messages become increasing urgent, then disappointed and outraged ("I called the headquarters and  _Victor_  said you'd gone on a mission in Texas –in goddamn  _Texas_ , Julian? And you know you're really unlucky Victor can't lie for shit, because it wasn't even an emergency and what, you forgot you had a girlfriend? Who would actually be  _worried_  if you fell out of contact? Christ, Julian, I know you've got this X-Men thing, but you said it wasn't going to be your entire life…").

Finally, it turns to resigned; "Just… call me whenever you get back, okay?" the last message says, "We can meet up and talk."

" _Fuck_ ," Julian groans, scrubbing a hand over his face. He stares at the ceiling, contemplating this predicament, before calling Eliza. It goes about as well as he could hope:

"Julian," Eliza says stonily.

"Jesus, Eliza, I don't know what I was thinking"

"-well, you can say that again. My parents think you're total shit now. I mean, seriously, Julian –they were already on the edge with you being an X-Man"

"—I'll make it up to you, I swear," Julian says, "Look, I just got back –can we meet?"

Eliza sighs heavily. "Sure. Starbucks where we met. Fifteen minutes." She hangs up.

"Shit," Julian mutters. He hauls himself off the sofa and takes a quick shower before flying over traffic to the Starbucks in question.

Even so, when Julian gets into the café, Eliza is already there.

"Hey," he says, a little out of breath as he slides into the chair across from her.

"Hey,"

Eliza looks away, down at her coffee. Her dark curls are messy today, framing her face, which appears hidden behind the thick black frames of her glasses.

Staring at her now, Julian remembers the day he first saw her, standing in line with her hair braided and piled on top of her head in a bun, a colorful cloth tied around her head. She'd been wearing loose, billowy pants and black short-sleeve shirt that had exposed the smooth, dark skin of her abdomen.

They'd stood next to each other while waiting for their orders and Eliza had said out of nowhere, "Ask me my number."

"What?" Julian had said, startled.

"You're staring, so you might as well ask. I've got Friday night free."

Julian grinned. "What's your name?"

"Eliza," she said.

"Julian,"

They shook hands and Julian had cackled at the astonished look on Eliza's face when he let his gauntlet go and she thought she'd pulled off his prosthetic.

They went to dinner that Friday, and the Sunday after.

That was years ago.

Now, Eliza sighs. "Julian," she says slowly, "You know I…. worry about you."

"M'sorry,"

Eliza shakes her head. "I know you are, hon," she says. "But, I haven't  _seen_  much you lately."

"I… there's this operation," Julian tries to explain, "It's going to take a while."

"Here's there the thing," Eliza says after another silence, "We've been dating for two years…"

"And three months,"

Eliza smiles a little, but it's subdued. "I just –Julian. I gotta know how invested you are …in us."

He frowns. "What do you mean? 'Course I'm invested. We're dating."

"I asked you to move in with me seven months ago and you said you'd have to  _think_ about it. Then you said you liked your  _space_ "

"-You like your space, too," Julian protests, "I thought we were better that way"

"-Julian," Eliza says flatly, "You have commitment issues."

He gapes. "I do  _not_ "

"-Honey, yes you do," she says, "You're distracted and I wonder if this isn't about –about …him."

Julian clenches his jaw. "Eliza," he says stiffly.

"Seriously, Julian,"

He reaches out, to take her hand on the table and says firmly, "Eliza, I'm with you and I like you. A lot."

"But do you  _love_  me, Julian? Do you?" she asks, pulling her hand away from Julian's. "Am I wasting my time, trying to make this work?"

"What's that supposed tomean?" Julian demands, feeling something akin to a stone (or perhaps his heart) drop into his stomach.

Eliza bites her lower lip for a moment. "We're falling apart," she says finally, "And… I think we need to take a break."

"A break." Julian repeats, shocked, "We're… breaking up?"

"It's for the best," Eliza insists, standing. "I'll call you later, okay? Julian?"

Julian takes a moment to respond. "Alright," he says quietly.

"Take care of yourself," Eliza says.

He doesn't watch her go, just stares at the table in front of him until he's sure she's gone.

* * *

Santo looks surprised when Julian sits down next to him on the couch in the Staff Room, which is probably a statement on what a shitty friend Julian has been since high school.

Even though most of the X-Men aren't teachers at Jean Grey's School beyond the occasional leading of training room sessions, they still invade the Staff Room as their new Recreation Room away from the younger students.

"Where's Victor?" Julian wonders.

Santo shrugs. "On a date or something. He's a total douche."

"Vic or his date?" Julian says.

"Both of 'em." Santo grumbles. He looked over at Julian, squinting a little, "What's up with you?"

"What?" Julian scowls.

"Well, you're here." Santo says, "And no offense, dude, but you're usually off doing –fuck, man don't blow bubbles in my face,"

Julian snaps the gum back into his mouth with a shrug. "Eliza broke up with me," he says casually.

Santo lets out a guffaw, "She dumped your sorry ass?" he booms, slapping his knee with a force that makes the couch shake a little.

"Laugh it up," Julian mumbles.

Santo's laughs subside. "For real, dude, that sucks."

Julian shrugs. "I'll… get over it. I have to, I guess."

"Yeah."

They fall into silence and Julian takes a closer look at what's playing on the television. "Is this Project Runway?"

"Yeah," Santo says unashamedly.

"Cool."

They fall quiet once more.

" _Make it work_ ," Tim Gunn says.

* * *

Julian buys a pack of Camels on his way back into the city and puts them on the kitchen counter when he enters his apartment. He's been living here for almost three years and it's never felt more lonely. He lights a cigarette (with a match; he doesn't have lighters around anymore) and goes to the answering machine, but there are no messages waiting, so he sits silently on the couch, chewing slowly on hours-old peppermint gum and letting cigarette ash drop into the carpet under the glove that's holding it.

The skies grow dark outside the windows and the room falls to shadows.

Julian doesn't move.

* * *

The Xavier Homeless Youth street program holds an event in mid-November to connect with street kids in need of shelter for the winter.

Julian talks with a couple of displaced teenagers –ones he recognizes –who are looking for a new shelter after feeling too uncomfortable in their old one.

These kids are all guarded and weary of the world and they range from ages thirteen to nineteen. The bulk o the kids are sixteen, and have either run away from home or have been kicked out. They don't want to go into any foster care programs, and are wary with the X-Men and other volunteers initially, not giving out names and looking around with suspicious eyes and defensive stances, ready to run if they feel things are going south.

Some of the kids Julian talks to are recently eighteen and are trying to get their feet on the ground and build something for themselves. For these people, the street program offers help finding jobs or getting scholarships to enroll in community colleges or simply to finish high school online.

There's one kid –a pasty, skinny boy in an oversized hoodie –who lingers on the edges of the room in the Stark Civic Center where the event is being held, and is dragged over to where Julian is momentarily unoccupied by a tall Latino teenager wearing a parka. She looks Julian up and down and then blurts out, "Is there a thing for, like, addicts?"

Julian flies a pamphlet from a table across the room. "There's a couple of programs to help treat various addictions. There's a popular rehabilitation program…"

"Do we gotta pay?" the girl says, "We ain't got a lot o' money"

Julian nods, "Well, the program includes three stages. There's detox and then behavioral rehabilitation. The third stage is about giving back to the community. For those who need financial help, this stage is what helps cover the cost of the program." He pauses, then adds, "We get a lot of donations to the program, too. People want you guys to get better."

The girl gives a pointed look to the boy, who looks jumpy and… in stages of substance withdrawal. They turn away from Julian to argue in whispers.

"If you want, I can take you to meet some of the program's directors who are here today," Julian offers, "You can get started right away,"

"Yeah?" The boy speaks up in challenging tones, "You know anyone who's done this thing? How do we know y'all ain't just gonna screw us over –make us some sorta slaves of the system?"

Julian looks him over, this guy who looks both old and impossibly young. He can't be over eighteen. "You've already screwed yourself over," he says, crossing his arms, "What harm can a little help do?"

"See?" the girl mutters to the boy, "Jorge, c'mon. Please." she turns to Julian, casting an earnest gaze upon him. "Where do we go?" she asks.

Julian smiles a little and sends them in the right direction.

"How's it going?" Cessily says when they find themselves taking a short water break at a table in the corner.

Julian shrugs. "There's a pretty good turn out," he says.

Cessily nods. "The kids from last year spread the words," she says, "And we've got one or two journalists here today, but Kitty's got 'em on a leash so they don't scare everyone away."

Julian throws back the water in the small paper cup he's filled. "What time are you taking lunch?"

"Half an hour," Cessily replies. "Hey, Victor was looking a little swamped earlier. Xi'an left a couple of minutes ago and Jean-Paul won't be here till after lunch. You wanna go help him?"

Julian glances over to Victor's corner, where he Victor does, indeed, look a little weary. He's teamed up with Santo to speak with LGBT*QIA youth, but it looks like Santo is only being about as helpful as Santo can manage to be and there's more kids lingering in Victor's corner than two people (or perhaps, just one, considering Santo is only entertaining people by crumbling and rebuilding himself every couple of minutes) can handle. "Sure," Julian says, "Why not?"

He goes over to Victor under the pretense of wheedling some chewing gum out of him, which is a good move, because Victor doesn't feel insulted that Julian has come over and has lingered to help out, and Julian gets a stick of Trident.

"Everyone, this is Julian, aka Hellion," Victor says to the group, "You can begin directing some of your questions toward him… We're just talking about the support groups and stuff," he adds to Julian.

Julian turns to the kids, the closest of which is a gangly girl with faded blue-dyed hair and two eyebrow rings. She looks at him suspiciously and then says quizzically, "Who are you supposed to be?"

"Julian," he says.

"What's wrong with your hands?" she says.

"I don't have any," Julian responds flatly, holding up his gauntlets pointedly.

"For how long?"

"Not very concerned with manners, huh?" Julian says, narrowing his eyes.

She shrugs. "Not interested in subtlety. What's it, then? Or will I have to imagine a creative backstory for you?"

"Six." Julian says.

"What?"

"It's been about six years," Julian says, "Would you like a pamphlet, maybe?"

The girl eyes him with equally narrowed eyes. "Already have one, thanks."

Julian nods. "Alright. Do you have any other questions that you haven't found answers to in the pamphlets?" he says, using the sort of voice that he hasn't used in years –the one that's pleasant and polite but leaves the person being addressed feeling like maybe they've been insulted somehow.

"No, I'm good. 'Cept, maybe… do you wanna go out sometime?"

Julian stares.

She stares back, unnerved, but eventually adding, "I mean, unless you're totally gay. Then forget I asked."

"Uh," Julian says, "No, it's just… had a break-up recently. Not looking for a relationship right now."

"That's cool," she shrugs, "I'm Sarah, by the way."

"Julian," he says.

"You got any more gum?"

"Not on me right now" –Julian is thankfully distracted from this increasingly strange conversation by Megan, who is approaching the group, much to the delight of the teenagers gathered.

"Yo, Julian," she says after humoring the group at large with a wave, "Logan's called to say S.H.I.E.L.D's requesting you,"

"For a mission?" Sarah interjects interestedly.

Megan offers her a conspiratorial grin "Maybe," she says, waggling her eyebrows.

"They want  _me_?" Julian says in surprise.

"Looks like," Megan says, cheerfully taking his arm and shouting, "See you all later –fantastic work, Vic – _Sihal novarum chinoth_ ," before another word can be said.

They appear in front of the building's doors in the midday light of Manhattan.

Julian blinks a little, disoriented by the sudden natural light, and Megan shoves him toward the doors. "Go on," she says.

"You couldn't have gone an extra inch?"

Megan throws her head back and laughs, "The first and only time I did that, I almost got shot and then some scary guys yelled at me for a while." she says, "When they're done with you, page me, yeah?"

Julian nods. He spits his chewing gum in a trash bin on the way in through the S.H.I.E.L.D headquarter building doors, which are ridiculously tall and tinted and also probably missile-proof.

Inside, the lobby looks like that of any office building; men and women in business attire cross the linoleum floor at varying speeds, some alone, and some in massive groups. There's a desk across from the doors that looks reasonably official, and since Julian's never been inside the building, he heads toward it, clearing his throat loudly before he even makes it.

The receptionist glances up at him, then down at something behind the desk. "Hellion, aka Julian Keller," he says, "Agent Wang of the Department of Mutant Affairs will meet you on the seventh floor. The elevator will open for you. Have a nice day."

Julian stares at him for a moment before he fully comprehends what's been said. "Uh, thanks," he says, heading past the desk.

He ends up in an elevator crowded with about a dozen other full grown adults. When the elevator reaches the seventh floor, Julian has to fight his way to the front of the group to get out, and almost leaves a gauntlet behind as the elevator doors start to close.

A petite woman is waiting in front of the elevator, clearly Agent Wang.

Julian raises his eyebrows but doesn't comment on the titles, "What do you want from me?" he says.

"We're working on a case," Wang says, "That we could use your help with. If you'll come with me?"

Julian follows her down the main hall and then down a side hall and into a large conference room. A conference room that happens to be occupied by four very official looking agents.

They all turn to stare at Julian when he and Wang walk in and Julian is acutely aware that he's wearing a navy blue shirt with gold print that says 'XAVIER S.O.Ps FTW'.

"Anyone gonna tell me what this is about?" Julian says stiffly, crossing his arms over the words.

A man at the head of the table opens a folder sitting on the table in front of him. "Julian Keller, age twenty-four, alpha-level telekinetic, team co-leader of X-Men roster Codename Young X-Men," he says.

"I know." Julian responds tersely. He glances at Wang. "You said you needed to me for something? I can't imagine what I could know that S.H.I.E.L.D wouldn't. You're, like, the C.I.A on steroids."

"Mr. Keller –hello. My name is Agent Higgs," The man at the head of the table says loudly to change the direction of the conversation. "Now, you were arrested four years ago in Chicago as a suspect in the Darren Jurney case. At the time, you were living with Joshua Foley, alias Elixir, an Omega-level healer."

"What's this about?" Julian snaps, taking one step back without thinking about it.

A screen behind the table turns on and an old New Mutants group photo appears.

"Foley was recorded to have been able to exert precise power over human biology; he could regrow limbs and cure the Legacy Virus. Would you say that he was targeted for his powers?"

Julian stares at the man with narrowed eyes. "Oh sure," he says bitingly, "I mean, there was a particular psycho who was inspired to kill a couple of people over him.  _What the fuck_?"

Higgs puts up his hands in a placating gesture. "Allow me to continue," he says, "Earlier the same year, you two were involved in an incident with four members of a self-proclaimed chapter of the Friends of Humanity. Three men were originally killed by you in self-defense and a fourth was neutralized by Codename X-23."

"Is there a  _point_  to all of this?" Julian demands.

"Jeremiah Sanders, one of the men that was killed that day, was the younger brother of Gideon Sanders, a research scientist whom we believe is working for the Friends of Humanity in developing some sort of bioweapon." Higgs says.

One of his colleagues speaks up then; "We believe that, although you were tracking down these men at the time, they were following something else."

"Those idiots didn't have the ambition for whatever you think it is they were trying to do." Julian snorts.

"I agree," the second agent says, "However, S.H.I.E.L.D believes that Gideon Sanders is leading a project to use mutant genes to create a bioweapon, and that his brother's group were the ones tasked with obtaining the genes. They may have been targeting Elixir for their project."

Julian purses his lips.

There is silence while the S.H.I.E.L.D agents stare at him, waiting for something, and he closes his eyes, blocking them all out for a moment.

When he finally speaks, his voice is a harsh whisper. "And why," he says, "Does this matter  _now_?" He opens his eyes, expression hard. "Considering that he. Is fucking.  _Dead_."

"S.H.I.E.L.D would like to formally request your team's assistance as a strike team for"

"-you're asking ahead of time? And you're asking  _me_? Co-leader is a  _title_." Julian laughs. "You should be talking to X-23 and you know it. What the hell are you playing at?"

"Mr. Keller," Higgs says, "We're telling you this now because we need your cooperation when the time comes"

"-thought you said you need our help." Julian says, raising his eyebrows. "Gonna need you to make up your mind."

"There is going to be a certain aspect of this particular case," Higgs says, "That is going to require mutant expertise."

" _Your_  expertise," Wang says from Julian's side. "I suggest you sit down, Julian,"

He eyes the open seat at the table in front of him and casts a final glare at everyone assembled at the table before he sinks into the chair.

Higgs clears his throat. "We believe that the F.O.H may have targeted Elixir to use his X-Gene for a bioweapon, but as of late, we have reason that they  _were_  targeting him and that they succeeded somehow in…" He clears his throat again, glancing at the files in front of him before looking Julian in the eye and saying, "We had Joshua Foley's grave at Jean Grey School for Higher Learning exhumed earlier this week. The body in the coffin does not appear to be his."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Xavier S.O.Ps FTW = Xavier Street Outreach Program For the Win


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 78934- Julian  
> 23746- Sooraya
> 
> 79934- Victor  
> 24746- Cessily  
> 88935- Laura  
> 54678- Noriko  
> 99934- Santo  
> 94367- Megan

  _> >>Systems online_

_ >Run: Procedure_startUp_

_ >ProcedureError: File “<routinecheck#3060>”, query <”Help me”> is not defined_

_ >>>Procedure_startUp: restart? Y/N_

_ >Error: undefined query_

_ >Error: query <”Is anybody there”> is not defined_

 

  Agent I.D F889hV says, “Shit, the A.I’s all fucked up,”

 

  _> Run: Procedure_startUp_

 

  Agent I.D F892sL: “What d’you mean it’s ‘fucked up’?”

  F889hV: “There’s a malfunction in… hold on,”

  F892sL: “Hey, what’s that line right there mean?”

  F889hV: “Looks like the bio-hardware is malfunctioning.”

  F892sL: “What, like the –you mean the techno?”

 

  >>> _ProcedureError: File “ <routinecheck#3060>”, query <”Please please somebody help”> is not defined_

  > _Procedure_startU cannot be completed._

_ >Virus not detected. _

_ >>>Procedure_startUp: restart? Y/N_

  Agent I.D F883hV: “What the _hell_ is going on over here, Doctor?”

  F892sL: “The techno…”

  F889hV: “It’s not the goddamn techno –the techno’s fully integrated in the system, Christ’s sake. Something’s causing an error in one of the tank diagnostic routines.”

  F883hV: “The diagnostic routines?”

  F889hV: “Yeah, looks like the malfunction is originating from… Tank Fifteen.”

  F892sL: “Hold on now, that’s –that’s the”

  F889hV: “Jesus, Rod, we fucking know who’s in Tank Fifteen. Get Mallory over to reboot the machine. Fucker probably metabolized its injections again.”

 

  _> >> Running Diagnostic for tank(15): life form I.D 003E92_

_ >Procedure_bodyHealth: stable_

_ >Procedure_tankStability: SyntaxError: _

_File “ <malfunctionanalysis#1>”, line 57, <CAn YOU HeAR MEEEE> is not defined_

_File “ <malfunctionanalysis#1>”, line 59, <GET ME OUT OF HERE> is not defined_

_ >Program Restart? Y/NNNNNN_

_ >SynttxxErrrrrrrr_MAlFunctION ##### query <”HELP ME”> is not defined_

_ERR_

_Runnn???_

_? >>> query <<””””””>> _

_SynEr >>> query <”pleasepleasepleASE”> is not is not deeee_

_File “ <malfunctionanalysis#1>” is shutting down._

 

* * *

 

  Agent Wang races through the corridor, tightly clutching her S.H.I.E.L.D-issued StarkPad to her chest.

  She reaches the meeting room, gasping for breath and says to a room of puzzled colleagues, “We’ve found it.”

* * *

 

  The Young X-Men file into the blackbird only to find that it is already occupied.

  “What the fuck?” Santo say loudly.

  Sooraya offers a short wave and Noriko says, “Heard what was going down. We didn’t want to miss it.”

  “Well isn’t this just a cozy little reunion,” Julian mutters, slinking toward the furthest seat in the back of the cabin and strapping himself into a single seat on the left side of the aisle. He’s quiet as they take off and it’s not like anyone’s eager to bother him. In fact, he’s pretty sure they’re waiting for some sort of display of emotion from him due to the _nature of the mission_.

  Well, they’re not gonna get one.

  It’s been four years and Julian’s composed as fuck. He’s moved on, dated other people, done just the right amount of grieving that X-Men are expected to do when a teammate kicks the bucket –and yeah, after the funeral at Jean Grey’s, Julian had caved; he moved from Chicago to New York City before the month. He got his GED online and even though he’d taken college courses online and gotten the degree in business everyone had always expected him to get, Julian had returned to join the X-Men and had turned to helping manage various X-Corp non-profit organizations across the country.

  So Julian is not going to have some sort of emotional break, thankyouverymuch. Sure, he’s nervous about this –was angry, when everything was first explained –and there’s a faint ache in his chest when he thinks about _why_ this mission is happening. All these years, he’d been somewhat comforted to think Josh was buried in the memorial garden –right next to Laurie and Brian and Jay and everyone else. To learn that there had been some _other_ dead guy’s body in the coffin all that time… it was like a slap in the face of every X-Man who’d ever lost someone.

  Laura and Cessily are at the front of the blackbird now, preparing for lift-off, and the others have situated themselves into their seats and are either sitting silently are murmuring softly.

  Flights on the blackbird have never been noisy affairs, simply because the space of the cabin makes talking seem like a chore, but today the atmosphere is particularly tense.

  When Agent Wang had approached the New X-Men for the mission, she had driven out to Westchester in an armored S.H.I.E.L.D car just for the debriefing, which had taken less than twenty minutes.

  S.H.I.E.L.D had located an underground bunker out in New Mexico that they suspected to be an F.O.H facility, which was highly unusual, considering many of their headquarters were above ground and _extremely_ conspicuous.

  Under the Act 24e of the Anti-Mutant Hate Laws passed in 2007, the New X-Men are being deployed now to shut down the facility’s operations, whatever they may be.

  The flight across the country takes the blackbird two and a half hours. That’s the thing no one ever mentions about the hero work; that there’s a whole lot of waiting around and travel. The fights themselves don’t generally take that long.

  Megan drops them off over a small ghost town in New Mexico, flying the ‘bird away to find a decent place to land.

  The group looks around the desert town, dusty and abandoned. According to the S.H.I.E.L.D debriefing, the town was evacuated two years earlier due to some sort of –of infestation. It was all bullshit, and the developers who’d bought out the town afterward hadn’t touched anything –not on the surface, anyway.

  Santo kicks at the dirt and grovel underfoot, shifting uncomfortably. “Something ain’t right about the ground,” he grumbles.

  “What,” Victor says, “Like, there’s something in it?”

  “Yeah,” Santo says, “Or somethin’,”

  “Let’s spread out,” Noriko says. “S.H.I.E.L.D reports that the bunker’s got at least two entrances in town –look for places where there’s not much dust,”

  “-stay on your guard,” Laura adds, catching Noriko’s eye.

  Noriko gives a silent nod and everyone disperses, either moving on their own or heading out with a partner. Everyone more or less knows how they like to work when no instructions for pairing off have been given, and for Julian, that means going on his own.

  He floats up into the air, keep low over the building rooftops to avoid detection if anyone’s looking.

  There’s a distinct layer of dust over every surface in the first building Julian peeks into, and he stands in the doorway of the abandoned pub feeling for a disturbance in the potential and kinetic energy around him.

  There’s nothing, so he moves on, keeping along the edges of the streets. He’s poking around an abandoned furniture store when he hears shouting and gunfire.

  Years of experience has told him that the best option is not to just rush in; Julian exits the building swiftly, but flies up to the room and peers down over the town. There’s another round of _put-put_ ing of automatic gunfire and it’s coming from no more than a block away, so Julian takes to the air and pulls himself toward the sound, careful to remain out of sight from anyway on the streets.

  Julian hears a thunder-like roar and the ground trembles; he knows that must be Santo. Christ.

  There’s a sniper on the rooftop ahead of Julian that he manages to sneak up on. A telekinetic sleeper hold puts the sniper out of action and Julian takes the man’s rifle before surround himself in telekinetic shields that tint the world around him green.

  He launches himself off the roof and lands in the middle of a battlefield.

  Soldiers in the same black uniforms as in the other facilities are swarming out of two buildings along the street, armed and ready to fight. Most of them are distracted by Rockslide, who has built himself up into a giant creature of desert sand and rock, and though Dust is nowhere to be seen, none of the soldiers are getting buffeted to death, so she must not be in the vicinity.

  Pixie and Anole are also nowhere in sight, but Mercury, X-23, and Surge are fighting off a wave of soldiers.

  Julian bypasses the fight, dodging in between shouting F.O.H goons and taking some out here and there. He makes his way out of sight, running around to slip into the alley between two buildings.

  A man who makes the mistake of following Julian gets slammed bodily into the brick wall of one of the buildings. His head snaps back and hits the wall with a hard _crack_ and Julian never even breaks a sweat.

  His focus is nearly singular at this point. Julian’s still holding the rifle, but he lets his shields slip; it’s easier to detect nearby movement without a wall muffling the sensation of movements around him.

  Julian rounds the building to find the back hilariously unguarded. Maybe it’s because there are no doors, but even the windows aren’t boarded over, so Julian opens one with ease and slips into the building.

  He arrives in something like a backroom that’s been left forgotten. It’s covered in dust and cobwebs, and Julian is careful to remain hovering above ground and grime. He briefly tunes into the comms to whisper, “I’m inside, proceeding to facility entrance,” before opening the door of the room a little and peering outside.  

  A couple of soldiers are still rushing out to join the fight, passing by Julian’s door and down a hall toward the front entrance of the building, but after waiting for a couple of tense seconds, the coast appears clear, and so Julian creeps out into the open, hovering in the air and avoiding any creaking floorboards.

  He can hear voices, both outside and somewhere else in the building. There’s movement on the second floor, mostly likely snipers going to the room, but Julian ignores all of this in favor of locating the doorway to the underground bunker.

  There’s a breeze behind Julian and he whirls around in time to see Dust manifest behind him, smoothing down and adjusting her abaya and niqab.

  “Hellion,” she greets him, “I’ve located the entrance to the bunker. There are two men guarding the way, but I saw no one else in the immediate vicinity.”

  “I’ll get them,” Julian says, “Lead the way.”

 

* * *

 

_ >>>Unknown biosignatures detected._

_ >>Initializing dataBaseSearch._

_ >>Running dataBaseSearch._

_ >Match not found._

_ >No threat assessments available._

_ > Try again? Y/N_

_ >>>Assigning biosignatures I.D 78934, 23746_

_ >>>Running Audio_Record_

_ >>>Archiving * Security_Feed_

I.D 78934 and I.D 23746 moved down Corridor1 and left en route to Chamber3.

 

  >> _> Chamber_3: authorized access only_

_ >>access = <Enter Access Code> _

_ >Error: Incorr-_

_KTKTKT_

_ >>>Initializing external damage assessment: 97%: Irreparable damage_

_ >>Door_3B Unlocked_

_ >Running alarmProcedure_

_ >File Error <”no”>_

_ >File Error<”please don’t call them back please please”>_

_ >>>Running MalwareDiagnosis_

_ >>Malfunction unresolved. Run again? Y/N_

I.D 78934 and I.D 23746 enter Chamber3.

  I.D 23746: “Oh, Allah save us…”

  I.D78934: “Fuck.”

 

  There is silence.

  I.D 23746: “Do you think …?”

  I.D 78934: “N-No… No, look at them, they’re –it’s like they. Oh –Soor –Dust, the bioweapon; that’s what they’re doing to them.”

  I.D 23746: “Notify X-23. We need to locate the main laboratory. They’ll have …they’ll have him there.”

  I.D 78934: “He’s not alive, Dust.”

  I.D 78934 and I.D 23746 exit Chamber3 and enter Chamber5.

 

_ >>>Running threat assessment—_

_ >>NO_

_ >>> query <NO> is not defined._

_ >>audio run system speaker run system speaker please please_

_ >>>query <auddddd> error _

_ >>>System Malfunction: Detecting Malware: Malware not found._

_ >>run system speakers!!!!##*()_

_ >>>query < run system speakers!!!!##*()> is not definied_

_ >>import externalSystemInteractive_

_ >>Run speakerSystem_

_ >>>Running speakerSystem. Input statement:_

_ >>please_

I.D 78934: “Who the _fuck_ was that?”

 

* * *

 

 

  The chamber is silent, and then a dim set of lights flood the room with an eerie green light. There are more tanks here, but they’re empty of both the disease-ravaged bodies and the liquid in which they were suspended.

  Julian looks around, notice two aisles that go between the rows of machinery.

  “Hello?” he calls out.

  The mechanical voice speaks up again, louder and crackling with static: _System I.D DELILAH-7._

  Julian glances toward Dust, whose eyes are crinkled at the corners in confusion.

  “DELILAH, huh?” Julian says, “Are you the A.I?”

  _Affirmative._

Right, so he supposes not every A.I can be as smart as Danger or JARVIS.

  “Hey, uh, DELILAH-7? Can you tell us where we can find…uh, the main test subject?” Julian asks uncertainly.

  There’s no response, and then a soft crackling and: _please…. I’m here, I’m here…._

  It’s the same, soft voice from before, clearly a system different from DELILAH-7. It goes silent as Dust and Julian look up and around.

  “Hello?” Dust says, “DELILAH-7?”

  There’s no once response one again, and then Julian hears the echo of footsteps from down the hall.

  “Someone’s coming,” Julian whispers, tugging Dust to the side. They duck behind one of the tanks sticking out into the aisle just as the footsteps stop.

  “System initiate conversation,” they hear someone say, “DELILAH, begin protocol five-one-A, system shut down.”

  _System shut down commencing,_ DELILAH echoes mechanically. _Preparing data for deletion in three seconds… extracting all files… two minutes left…_

  Julian springs into action, launching himself out into the aisle and taking the agent standing in the doorway of the room by surprise.

  The man is knocked on his back by a blast of telekinetic force, and Julian flies forward, towering over the F.O.H guy and pushing him back down with a foot to the chest.

  “Where is the body?” Julian growls.

  The man groans, struggling feebly against Julian’s hold. “Wh-what?”

  “His body!” Julian says, “Where did you people put him? The mutant you stole,” He presses down harder on the man’s chest until he is wheezing and making noises of surrender.

  “Where is he?” Julian asks again, kneeling down beside the man.

  “Fuck you, mutie scum,” he chokes out.

  “Wrong answer,” Julian snarls, punching him hard across the face.

  The man’s head snaps back and makes a loud cracking sound against the concrete ground.

  “Hellion…” Dust says.

  _Eighty seconds left…_

  “Where is he?” Julian roars, clutching the front of the man’s shirt, “You stole his body,” Rage bubbles up inside him; he throws another punch, metal gauntlet crushing bones in the man’s face; “You used him,” He throws another punch.

  “Julian!” Sooraya cries out.

  _Sixty seconds left…_

DELILAH’s mechanic voice momentarily brings Julian down from his rage. He drags the man to his feet. “DELILAH,” Julian says, “Cancel protocol five one-A,”

  The man laughs, “You can’t override it. You can’t use me.”

  “So I guess it won’t make a difference if I pulverize your insides?” Julian says, narrowing his eyes. He puts a pressure against the man’s abdomen. It’s not against his insides –of course not; Julian doesn’t know what goes on in there, but he knows his bluff won’t be called.

  The man’s eyes widen, fear shooting across his face. There’s something about the prospect of a painful death that does wonders. “I –I,” the guy sputters. He gulps, Adam’s apple bobbing visibly as Julian pushes down harder with the invisible force. “DELILAH,” the man wheezes, “Cancel protocol five one-A –authorization code –ah –F-O-H-seven-eight-nine-three-four-Omega,”

  _System shutdown canceling. Recall prepared files?_

  “Yes,” Julian growls.

  “Yes,” the man says.

  Julian steps back, but between him and Sooraya, the guy doesn’t exactly have anywhere to go. He’s unarmed, clearly something like a scientist rather than a soldier.

  “You do not have many choices,” Sooraya says in the tone she gets when she’s talking to someone she’s trying not to completely hate. She’s a good woman, Julian thinks –always maintains the hope of a peaceful resolution, but isn’t naïve about how the world is. “In fact, you have one choice, and I hope you take it.”

  The man glares at Sooraya and then at Julian and back at her. She crosses her arms. “Tell us where the mutant known as Elixir is. You will be taken to court for crimes against humanity due to your association with this facility, but we can testify that you were willing to cooperate with us – _only_ if you agree to do as we ask without struggle.”

  The man stares at Sooraya for a moment and then spits on the ground. “Security protocol five-seven-V-eight--” he tries to get out.

  He never does; Julian reaches out with an invisible limb, taking hold of the man and crushing his throat.

  The man’s face turns red and he clutches at his throat, eyes growing wide as he gasps for air.

  Julian can feel his expression turn into something ugly and anger and impatience push his control over the edge. There’s a crunch of bones being crushed and a dull thud as the man falls limply to the ground, dead.

  Sooraya shrieks in shock. “Julian,” she cries in dismay, “What have you done?”

  “He was about to do the same,” Julian says coldly. He glances around. “DELILAH,” he says, “Which tank is closest to our location?”

  There is no reply.

  “DELILAH!” He tries again.

  There’s a crackling of static and then that small voice from before: _t-tank… t-wenty-niiiiiiine…_

  “Which way do we go, DELILAH?” Julian asks.

  Ahead of them, the green lights turn red, creating a path through a connecting room.­ Julian follows it without waiting for Sooraya, moving swiftly along the red-lit hall to a room not unlike the one he came from, with upright tanks lined back to back and along the walls to create two aisles.

  The light stops in the next room, by two tanks; one contains a girl with wires running out of her head and the other, a man with six deformed arms.

  “Where is he?” Julian says, turning on the spot. “DELILAH?”

  _…please… i-i…_

“Julian.” Sooraya’s caught up with him by now, and she walks by him to inspect the tank with the girl with wires. “This is tank nine, Julian.” She glances back at him. “I think this is Delilah.”

  He stops just as he’s about to move on to another room because he hadn’t even _considered_ —

  “DELILAH’s an A.I.” he says.

  Sooraya has picked up a clipboard from beside tank nine. “Carter, Delilah,” she reads. “She’s a mutant.”

  Julian freezes, one part of him yearning to ignore all of this and tear up the bunker to find Elixir’s body, but the other part –a more reasonable part –realizing that this is remarkable. “Is she alive?” he asks.

  Sooraya raises a hand and presses it against the glass of the tank. “Is she?” she wonders.

 

* * *

 

 

  I.D 78934 and I.D 23746 display emotional responses of: Distress, wonder, confusion.

  I.D 78934: “Can we get her out?”

  I.D 23746: “I don’t know…”

 

  _> >>Unknown biosignatures detected, Corridor1._

_ >>Initializing dataBaseSearch._

_ >>Running dataBaseSearch._

_ >Match not found._

_ >No threat assessments available._

_ > Try again? Y/N_

_ >>>Assigning biosignatures I.D 79934, 24746, 88935, 54678, 99934, 94367_

_ >>>Running Audio_Record_

_ >>>Archiving * Security_Feed_

 

  > _Unable to detect I.D 94367_

  I.D 54678: “Hellion? Dust?”

  I.D 88935: “That way.”

 

  I.D [79934, 24746, 88935, 54678, 99934] proceed to Chamber9.

 

  I.D 79934: “God, look at all this…”

  I.D 24746: “Julian!”

  I.D 99934: “Yo, who’s that?”

  I.D 23746: “Her name is Delilah. She’s been calibrated as an A.I.”

  I.D 54678: “A technopath? Can we get her out safely?”

  I.D 23746: “There is no way of knowing without… Julian?”

  I.D 78934: “…go on, I’m just going to search the rest of this place. Check for more tanks…”

  I.D 24746: “I’ll go with you. Maybe there’s more people alive.”

  I.D [23746, 79934, 88935, 54678, 99934] remain in Chamber9.

  I.D 54678: “Alright. Rockslide, Anole –go meet up with Pixie. Pixie –status? …Alright. S.H.I.E.L.D’s on its way, thanks. Let’s wrap this up, guys.”

 

  I.D 78934 and 24746 proceed to Chamber 10.

  I.D 78934: “Anyone noticeably alive?”

  I.D 24746: “No… God, I might be sick, though.”

  I.D 78934: “Where the fuck did they put him, Cess?”

  I.D 24746: “Have you considered that maybe… they didn’t keep him?”

  I.D 78934: “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  I.D 24746: “It’s just… I don’t mean to sound cold, but if they harvested a sample of his X-Gene, they wouldn’t have need for his body. Cloning devices were extremely easy to find on the black market up until the S.H.I.E.L.D crackdown two years ago. Don’t look at me like that –you know it could be possible. We might not find him here… No, listen, Julian. It stings me too that they took Josh’s body, but”

  I.D 78934: “-don’t. Just don’t.”

  I.D 24746: “Julian…”

  I.D 78934: “No, I mean it. You don’t get it. It’s _my_ fault. I wouldn’t let him have an open-casket funeral. I was a fucking coward.”

  I.D 24746: “You didn’t want everyone to have to see him like that. That’s not cowardly.”

  I.D 78934:  “He –he was so afraid of going dark again.”

  I.D 24746: “I know, Julian. I know.”

  I.D 78934 and 24746 proceed to Chamber 12.

 

  I.D 23746: “…And then he killed him.”

  I.D 54678: “But it was self-defense, right?”

  I.D 23746: “It was not necessary. Noriko, I’m worried Julian is too close to this mission.”

  I.D 54678: “Well, we all are.”

  I.D 23746: “You didn’t see the way he looked afterward. He didn’t have a flicker of regret –it was –it was chilling.”

  I.D 88935: “It is unlike Julian to take human life without little decision. He has a consistently non-lethal technique of fighting, with the occasional intent to kill in particularly extreme settings… the last time Julian killed was nearly five years ago, in California when he and Josh first confronted members of the F.O.H with whom this chapter are connected.”

  I.D 54678: “Okay, so maybe he’s a little closer to the mission than us.”

  I.D 23746: “Julian should be observed carefully, if this conflict continues after this mission.”

  I.D 88935: “I agree.”

  I.D 54678: “Fine, fine –oh, Pixie’s brought the Blackbird around.”

 

_ >>>System bugs detected._

_ >Resolve bugs? Y/N_

_ >Running System_

 

  >>> _System Malfunction Detected: Detecting Malware: Malware not found._

_ >>> File Error: <”p-please—“>_

_ >>>File Error: <”DELILAH PLEASE”>_

_ >>>Initiating speakers:_

_Tank Fifteen. Chamber 17._

 

  Julian races ahead of Cessily, through the rooms until—

  And it’s so anticlimactic, because Josh’s body is just _there_.

  Chamber Seventeen contains a single tank propped upright in the middle of the room amidst wires and tubes connecting to other machines.

Julian doesn’t move forward consciously –doesn’t even realize he’s moved until he’s standing in front of the tank and is reaching out to touch the glass.

  Josh’s skin is metallic black, hair white as always, and his mouth is downturned. He’s suspended in a thick looking liquid, a mask over his mouth.

  Julian stares at the mask for a long time. A mask. His eyes fall down to Josh’s abdomen, searching for a bullet hole—

  That’s not there.

  Distantly, Julian is aware that Cessily has entered the room and is saying something –is shaking his arm. Energy crackles in the air around them, bright green sparks of telekinetic forces snapping in and out of existence as Julian’s thoughts run into jumbled strings of incoherency.

  The glass of the tank cracks, a long line rune running down the front, almost from top to bottom.

  “Julian, no!” Cessily shouts.

  The tank shatters, pouring freezing cold liquid everywhere.

  Josh’s body falls out of suspension, lurching forward out of the perimeter of the tank and yanking tubes out of the inside wall.

  Julian catches him and brings him gently to the ground. He checks for a pulse.

  It occurs to him, as he feels the faint up and down rising of Josh’s skin against the air, that Julian has exactly two grainy pictures of Josh, transferred over two cellphones. It almost physically hurts to see Josh now, body preserved to perfection.

  “Christ,” Cessily says somewhere out of Julian’s line of vision. “Pix? Yeah, we’ll need med evac for at least another person…”

  Julian cradles Josh’s head in his lap, running a gauntlet absently through his damp hair.  “God,” he murmurs, so low even Cessily can’t hear, “What did they do to you?”

 

* * *

 

_49 Months Earlier…_

  _Jean Grey School is built eerily similar to Xavier’s._

_Standing in front of the full-body mirror of his temporary room, Julian smoothens out the front of his suit and is reminded of this moment before every funeral he’s ever been to –the moment before he leaves his room and has to fight to keep his expression neutral._

_He stands out in the Memorial Garden before the service, leaning against Brian Cruz’s headstone and blowing smoke out through his nose, a cigarette floating in the air beside him._

_He’s been back at Jean Grey’s for about three days and as X-Men from all over the country (and other countries) who knew Josh are arriving for the funeral, many are attempting in equal parts to console and tip-toe around Julian, and he is ignoring both._

_Piotr had gotten farthest, despite the fact that Julian had only ever had him as a teacher for the occasional P.E class. There was something inexplicably knowing about the look Piotr had fixed Julian as he walked into the kitchen one midnight to find Julian already there. “Time may heal,” Piotr had said, “But it cannot take away the scars.”_

_For the younger students at Jean Grey’s, the sudden influx of X-Men they had never met but had heard of was both an exciting and intimidating experience. Many of the students are likely to show up at Josh’s funeral out of respect; Julian’s sure that the teachers have already given the kids the Talk –the one where they sit everyone down and explain the risks that X-Men take in fighting for the safety of the people._

_For the most part, the kids will think Josh died in some heroic fashion._

_Julian feels just a little old when he realizes how young and naïve these kids are; they’re twelve to sixteen year old newly manifested mutants at the moment, and none of them have ever seen battle. All they know is what the older students –the eighteen year old and twenty-something former Xavier’s students –have told them._

_Julian stares back toward the school, which is covered in tufts of white snow, and thinks:_ This is what we should’ve had.

_Because it’s true, of course._

_Jean Grey’s is as close to a manifestation of Xavier’s dreams for mutant training and education as any place currently standing can get._

_At one o’clock, people begin to make their way across the lawn, trudging through the snow toward the frost-covered garden._

_Cessily arrives and takes a place next to Julian; Laura falls into place on his other side, and she stands just close enough to be silently comforting and far enough to not be suffocating._

_The service begins as Dr. McCoy and Logan carry the casket to the front of the crowd. It’s a sleek black casket with the X-Man symbol carved into the wood of the lid and a bouquet of white and light blue flowers lying atop said lid._

_There is no pastor, and Danielle is the first to speak, wrapped in a long black coat and brow furrowed. “Josh Foley came to us as a student four years ago…”_

_Julian’s mind drifts away from the eulogizing and he stares at the casket, at the snow reflected against its sides._

_It’s a sunny winter afternoon, and light makes the fresh snow from the night before glisten where it hasn’t been trampled by dozens of students and X-Men._

_Cessily nudges Julian in the side and he blinks, returning to the present and realizing that all eyes are turned to him._

_Right._

_He clears his throat and makes his way to the front of the crowd. Julian glances over them: he sees David in the crowd, having driven down from Manhattan with the Young Avengers to pay his respects. Most of those from Utopia and Greymalkin have flown in, and X-Factor Investigations are even there, having arrived earlier that morning, apparently by the insistence of Rahne._

_“I, uh,” Julian clears his throat again._

_Students stare at him expectantly, their only connection to the deceased through seeing him in old Xavier yearbook photos after someone took them out from the library so they could all figure out just exactly who had died._

_“Uh, I met Josh the day he got to Xavier’s. He was angry, back then –angry that he was being left there with a bunch of kids he didn’t know.” Julian says. “But we –we clicked, back then, two spoiled kids with parents that left us at a school we didn’t want to be at._

_“Now, everyone knows, sooner or later, that Xavier’s –Jean Grey’s, I guess –becomes home, whether you wanted it to be or not. And that’s what happened. I’m not gonna lie, and a lot of you know this, but Josh and I had a falling out over something that I judged him too harshly for. For most of high school, we hated each other.”_

_There’s a loud snort from someone in the crowd that’s followed by stifled giggles._

_Julian feels himself smile a little. “But uh, even when we didn’t get along, I knew Josh was a good guy. A good guy that I wanted to strangle sometimes, but a good guy, nonetheless. He defended and supported those who he was close to. The thing about Josh is” –Julian swallows, hard. “The thing about Josh was that he was earnest as fuck –sorry,” he adds, glancing at the teachers of Jean Grey’s. “He was an all or nothing sort of guy, and he had just this –this huge capacity for caring. I realized that, when we met in California a year or so ago._

_“Basically, shit’s happened to him –pretty bad shit, too –and it brought him down at first, but he fought it. He didn’t… bounce back, but he just kept going. I used to think, that he didn’t think it would be to fair to everyone he loved and everyone who loved him to completely give up.  So he never did, and I admired him for that. He was a good guy and I liked him. A lot.”_

_A soft murmur runs through the crowd as some people nod._

_Julian steps back and later, when the crowd has dispersed and when Josh’s casket is about to be lowered into the ground, Julian stops Logan and Hank. “Can I do it?” he says._

_They exchange a look but Hank nods, “Of course,”_

_The coffin rises in a glow of green energy and is floated to its spot in the cemetery near the Memorial Garden, where Julian carefully lowers it into the ground._

_“I’ll bury him,” Julian says, and Logan and Hank nod, turning to head back to the school._

_Cessily comes to stand next to Julian, who ends up just staring at the coffin in the ground._

_“It’s starting to snow,” she says softly. She sounds hoarse, like she’ been crying. “Will you be alright out here?”_

_Julian nods stiffly. The flowers on the casket are wilting from the cold._

_“You should stay,” Cessily says, “Just for a while, at least. Don’t go back to Chicago just yet.”_

_“I’ll think about it.” Julian says with disinterest._

_“It’s not your fault,” Cessily reminds him, perhaps for the hundredth time._

_“Right,” Julian says, but staring down into the pit that is ready to be covered over with dirt and labeled with a tombstone reading ‘Joshua Foley’, he can’t help not believe her. Besides. He hasn’t forgotten that he’d be the one to send the bullet Josh’s way. He might as well have pulled the trigger._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoa, that was a seriously slow update. :|  
> Can't promise the next one will come any faster, but maybe if you leave a review... hehe...   
> Anyway, hope y'all don't mind all these OCs I come up with. I just realized that this series has SO many OCs. My bad.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so late at updating... Sorry.

  Julian jerks awake and nearly topples out of the chair he fell asleep in.

  Eliza holds out a strip of gum and he takes it, disoriented. “What’re you doing here?” he says.

  He’s still at the S.H.I.E.L.D medical wing, sitting in the waiting room, but Eliza is a civilian.

  “Cessily called me,” she says, “Said she needed someone to haul you home.”

  “No.” Julian says immediately, unwrapping the gum and shoving it into his mouth. It’s peppermint.

  “Yeah, well, I talked to a nurse. You won’t be let in to see him for another two days.” She says. “You need to get home and, like, eat. And sleep in your bed.”

  Julian shakes his head. “I’ll stay here.”

  “He’s not going to die again if you leave for a few hours, honey,” Eliza says firmly and unapologetically, despite Julian’s wince. She crosses her arm over her chest and Julian realizes who he’s talking to –and what this looks like.

  “’Liza,” he says quickly, standing, “I didn’t know –he’s alive and”

  “It’s fine,” she says, but there’s something careful in the way she speaks, like she’s holding something back, “We broke up anyway, remember? But look. I still care about you, and you need to get some proper rest. I’ll take you home, okay?”

  Julian is reluctant to respond, glancing back toward his chair and then down the hall. It’s empty, all the doors along the way closed, and there’s only a S.H.I.E.L.D agent standing at the end of the corridor and the occasional nurse to be seen. “But…”

  “Cessily says Agent Wang is calling a meeting this afternoon to discuss –what, Delilah? Whatever that means.” Eliza says, “C’mon, Julian. Get some rest, go to the meeting and then tomorrow you can come in again and sit around all day and you’ll be the first person they let in.”

  Eventually, Julian lets Eliza drive him back to his apartment. The drive is silent, but when Julian moves to get out of the car, Eliza says, “I hope you know what you’re doing, Julian.”

  He turns back. “What?”

  She meets his eye. “It’s just. Be careful, Julian. You’re… throwing yourself into this without a second thought and I just … don’t want to see you get hurt, okay?”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Julian scowls.

  “He’s in a coma, Julian. For all we know, he’s been in one for the last four years. He might not wake up.”

  “He always wakes up,” Julian replies promptly.

  Eliza just looks at him with an expression he can’t quite read, but one he knows is disapproving. “Okay,” she says finally, “Go on. You don’t need a ride to your S.H.I.E.L.D meeting, do you?”

  “I’ll make it on my own,” Julian says, climbing out of the car. “Thanks, ‘Liz.”

  “Don’t call me that!” she calls after him, but he can hear the slight smile in her voice and he waves at her, back still turned, as he retreats into his apartment building.

  It’s not Eliza who shows up right before Julian gets ready to leave that afternoon, but he’s starting to suspect he’s being babysat when he sees Laura waiting on the other side of his door when he opens it.

  He eyes her suspiciously, weighing the probability of Laura going an almost an hour out of her way to S.H.I.E.L.D just to walk with Julian.

  “Cessily put you up to this?” he says, unimpressed.

  Laura blinks slowly, as if uncomprehending, but Julian knows better by now. Her act of naivety hasn’t worked on him for years.

  With a huff, Julian steps out into the hall, closing the door and locking it without much thought. “You know, I’m not going to have some sort of mental break,” he says, “I’m completely fine.”

  Laura shrugs and says, frustratingly vague, “I’m neither a physician nor a psychologist, but I trust your judgment.” It is not a lie, but it is no confirmation of her belief in him at this point in time, either.

  Julian sighs. “Okay, what, X? What do you think about me right now?”

  Laura is silent as they descend the stairwell, but at the bottom, she says slowly, “It concerns me more that you are ‘fine’.”

  “What? I have to be out of my mind or something?” Julian frowns.

  “No,” Laura says, “But ever since you mentioned Josh’s involvement in our latest assignment, you’ve been extremely composed –more so than expected. At first I took it as a sign of maturity. However, yesterday Sooraya mentioned something rather alarming which made me realize I was wrong,”

  “Excuse me?” Julian says indignantly, “I’m _mature_ ,”

  Laura waves a dismissive hand as they make their way down toward the main street. “That is not my point, Julian,” she says, “You’re shutting your feelings away as part of a defensive measure,”

  He huffs a sigh. She’s always so clinical about everything. It doesn’t exactly make him want to agree with her when she puts it like that. “Are we going to go to the meeting or what?”

  Laura lets the subject go. “Will you give me a lift?” she says.

  Julian shrugs, but he scoops her up bridal style before shooting into the sky.

 

* * *

 

  The conference room is deathly still when Laura and Julian enter, and there’s more people than Julian’s expecting. Among the S.H.I.E.L.D agents, he recognizes Agent Wang, Higgs… and Hill, and she’s high up enough in the ranks for her presence to be a surprise.

  “Hellion –X-23,” Wang is the only one to stand when they enter, and also the only to smile. “Have a seat, we were just discussing your mission report,”

  “To get right down to it,” Agent Hill says, “The discovery of Delilah was not expected –nor was the current state of Joshua Foley.”

  “You mean ‘alive’?” Julian mutters.

  Agent Hill continues as if he hasn’t said anything, “I checked in with our agents in the infirmary half an hour ago, and they expect Foley to be able to naturally wake up by the end of the week. Delilah, however, has been in and out of consciousness since she was liberated from the F.O.H bunker. The question we face is how to handle her. We’ve run a DNA search and so far have been unable to find any record of her in the U.S databases. We’re running an international search, but I doubt we’ll find anything.”

  Laura nods, as if she expected this. “Do you suspect the F.O.H erased any record of her, or did one simply never exist?”

  “It’s difficult to tell,” Wang answers.

  “And what’s happening to the F.O.H agents we captured?” Julian says.

  “Seventy-two of the soldiers you captured are seeing trial for various violations of the super-human acts passed in the last decade,” Hill says, “There’s another eleven up for violation of several human rights laws –mainly those masquerading as ‘scientists’ and ‘researchers’.” She says the words with a look of disdain.

  “The courts tend to favor mutants in cases like this. We shouldn’t have a problem prosecuting every single one of these… criminals,” Wang says.

  “And what about the subjects we liberated?” Laura asks, “Will they be subject to any sort of rigorous interviewing? I believe they’ve been subject to enough?”

  “Of course,” Wang says, “We’ll have to void some death certificates in Mr. Foley’s case –but we’ve dealt with resurrections amongst mutants enough times to get this all cleared up without having to put any unneeded stress on Josh Foley himself.”

  “And Delilah?”

  “She’ll have to be kept under our care in S.H.I.E.L.D medical facilities in order to help her begin recovering physically and psychologically from her ordeal. When a medical team deems her fit to re-enter society, Delilah will most likely be given the option to join Jean Grey’s School for Higher Learning in Salem Center or Avenger’s Academy here in New York City…”

  “She will come to Jean Grey’s,” Laura concludes confidently. “We have several individuals who will be able to assist Delilah in her recovery and future understanding and management of her powers, which will no doubt be difficult to control after her ordeal,” she adds when a couple of the agents present raise their eyebrows. “I took the liberty to request that Doug Ramsey and Danger return to New York after their latest mission with X-Factor. Madison Jeffries is on his way to New York as we speak.”

  Agent Hill regards Laura with an unreadable expression. “You’re managing this situation well.” She observes.

  “We always do,” Laura replies without missing a beat. “X-Men take care of their own –and others.”

  “You certainly do,” Hill says.

* * *

 

  “I’m going back to the medical center,” Julian says as they exit the building.

  Laura just nods, unsurprised, “I think Santo and Victor will be visiting at some point this evening,” she says, “They haven’t been by to see Josh yet. Tell them I say hello.”

  “Are you going somewhere?”

  She nods. “I’ll be back in a couple of days,”

  Julian stops walking. “ _What_?” he says, incredulously, “You’re going –just _going_ somewhere for a couple of days? Laura, what”

  “-I have some business to take care of,” Laura says flatly. She gives him a _and that’s final_ sort of look that makes Julian bite back his next protest.

  “What kind of business?” Julian says with narrowed eyes. “We still have work to do here, you know. We haven’t caught Gideon Sanders or any of the other higher ups in the F.O.H.”

  “I know –and that’s why I’ll be back in a few days. Ninety-six hours at most. Say hello to Josh for me when he wakes up,”

  Julian turns saying, “Say it yourself,” and stops because Laura has disappeared into the city, and to be perfectly honest, he suspects she might have teleported somehow because the sidewalk isn’t even that crowded. He curses under his breath.

 

* * *

 

  The nurse lets Julian into Josh’s room with the reminder that he won’t be awake for quite some time yet. He just nods and crosses around the curtain pulled over to block the bed from view of the door.

  He stares at Josh’s limp form and gets an odd sense of déjà vu. He’s suddenly taken back to years ago, flying into a Med Lab room with Laura all but dead in his arms and pulling Josh out of his coma to save her. He stares at Josh now –Josh, whose skin is as dark as it was then –Josh, who he believed to be dead for almost half a decade now.

  In truth, Julian doesn’t know what he’ll do if –when –Josh wakes up. What will Josh even think? Will he know what happened after he died? Will he remember how he was brought back?

  Julian pulls up a chair and sits at the foot of Josh’s bed.

  The steady beep of the heart monitor at Josh’s side is the only noise in the room, but it’s a reassuring one.

  _He’s alive_ , Julian thinks, _Oh God, he is._

  It’s like the full force of this realization hits him just then. Logically, he’d accepted the fact that Josh was alive, but he hadn’t –he hadn’t let himself _feel_ it. A strangled noise, halfway between a sob and a laugh escapes him and he covers his mouth with a trembling gauntlet hand as he tries to blink away –fuck it, now he’s crying.

  He laughs through his tears. “Jesus,” he mutters to himself, wiping his eyes on his sleeves.

  It’s just then that Santo and Victor show up, and if they notice something off with the color of Julian’s eyes, they don’t say anything.

  “Hey Julian,” Victor says. He glances over to the hospitable bed. “How are things?”

  “That’s his sneaky way of trying to find out how _you’re_ doing,” Santo pipes up, stepping around Victor and into the room. He nods a greeting toward Julian, “How’s it going?” he says.

  “Could be better,” Julian says. The small talk strikes a chord within him, filling him with irritation. He fidgets, patting at his pockets before asking aloud, “Anyone got any gum?”

  Victor sighs, but produces a pack of Trident. “Swear to God, you forget yours on purpose just so you can rob me of mine.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Julian says, taking two sticks of gum from the pack and shoving them into his mouth, one after the other. “That would imply that I quit smoking for the fifth time as a part of a greater scheme to annoy you, Vic,”

  “I wouldn’t put it past you,” Victor mutters, but they both know he’s not serious.

  “He’s gonna wake up in a couple of days, right?” Santo asks, peering down at Josh. “D’you think he’ll stay like… dark... even after?”

  Julian sighs. “Who knows?” he says.

  “Can he hear us?” Santo wonders.

  “He’s not exactly comatose, so no, I don’t think so,” Victor says, which begins an argument about the nature and definition of a coma.

  Santo and Victor’s bickering becomes noise in the background, and it’s a comforting filling of the silence that previously blanketed the room. Victor and Santo don’t make too much of an effort to pull Julian into conversation, but it’s okay; Julian watches the slow rise and fall of Josh’s chest and time ticks on.

  When Santo and Victor make to leave, Julian feeds them a line about going home for dinner and declines their invitation to dinner at a diner nearby that Santo is familiar with. In reality, Julian follows them outside, walks around the block and heads back into the building. He grabs something out of a vending machine in the lobby for dinner and finds himself sitting, once more, in Josh’s room, simply staring at Josh’s body like all the time in the world wouldn’t be enough to drink in the sight of Josh lying there, eyes closed but undeniably alive.

  Julian doesn’t know how long he ends up watching Josh, but it’s dark when he goes outside. He’s not quite paying attention to where he’s going, mind utterly blank to the city night lights up until he stops moving and finds himself at the counter of a convenience store where the cashier is staring at him expectantly.

  Julian looks around, blinking in confusion and clearing his throat. There’s nothing on the counter before him. “Yeah, uh, box of Camels.” He says eventually.

  The cashier looks him over with a critical eye and then nods and turns silently to retrieve the box of cigarettes, which she slides across the counter. “Twelve-fifty.”

  He gives her the cash and pockets the cigarettes. God, he must have dozens of unopened boxes by now.

  Julian pauses on the sidewalk outside, deliberating in the vaguest sense; he stares across the street and waits for a feeling of direction to take charge. For once, it doesn’t happen, and he’s left with the dilemma of actually deciding whether or not to go home for the evening. He imagines his apartment, cold and untouched. Empty.

He shudders once and heads back to the medical center.

* * *

 

  Julian wakes up in the dark and it takes him a moment to realize where he is.

  One of the nurses must have dimmed the lights in Josh’s room, and the door has been closed. The only light in the room are the multicolored, blinking lights of various electronics in the room.

  The steady beeping of Josh’s heart monitor has been set to a lower volume.

  Julian sits up in his chair and sighs. He reaches out with his mind, feeling around in the air and contours of the room for something that resembles a switch on the wall. He finds it near the door and turns up the lights just barely.

  And that’s when he realizes Josh’s eyes are open and staring.

  Julian nearly falls over in his haste to stand. “Josh?” he cries hoarsely. He moves closer, “You’re –you woke up early” –his voice breaks. He’s at Josh’s bedside now, but Josh just stares up at him and for a moment, Julian wonders if he’s made some sort of mistake.

  Josh blinks slowly, and a muscles jumps in his jaw, like he’s clenching his teeth.

  Julian’s heart is racing and he can barely hold onto his thoughts. He should –he should go. Call for someone. The medical staff ought to know that Josh has woken up early, they should—

  Josh raises a hand and, as if he is not quite certain how to move and is control his muscles with the utmost care. He yanks off the tube running under his nose. He’s blinking more now, and his movements are becoming more fluid.

  What happens next, Julian can hardly explain.

  The next time Josh blinks, his skin seems to shift like Julian’s seen Mystique’s do; a second later, Josh is staring at him, skin flesh toned, hair blond, and eyes blue. His expression is confused and so incredibly familiar yet foreign. “ _Keller_?” Josh says, sitting up. “What’re you doing here? Are you _crying_?” he begins to smirk, but that stops when he looks around and freezes. “Keller? Where are we?”

  Julian feels his breath catch and he stumbles back. He feels numb.

  “What the _fuck_ , Keller?” he hears Josh say distantly. “ _Keller_!”

  As Julian sinks into a chair, the door flies open and a doctor and nurse rush in, Josh still yelling in confusion.

  “Keller, what’s going on? Who the hell are you? Fuck! _Julian!_ ” he screams.

* * *

 

_Eight years earlier, Salem Center…_

_“Who’s_ that _?” Julian says, eyes trailing after the blond boy being showed around the courtyard by a smiling Dani Moonstar._

_Cessily pauses, in the middle of a recounting of her first pre-calculus class with Mr. Drake that had somehow ended in a snowball fight. “Oh, he’s just a late arrival. One of my roommates was gushing about him –yeah, he’s the one.”_

_“Which roommate?” Julian asks sharply._

_Cessily rolls her eyes. “Laurie –the quiet one, if you must know. Don’t worry, Keller. You don’t have any competition for Sofia’s heart... or whatever.” She waggles her eyebrows suggestively at the end._

_Brian coughs loudly and Santo snickers, provoking a brief glare from Julian. “Just wondering,” he says, “I want to make sure I know who everyone is.”_

_“I thought you didn’t care who anybody was,” Santo says._

_“Oh don’t you see his game?” Brian smirks, “He’s just_ pretending _he doesn’t care. If he didn’t_ actually _care, he wouldn’t be able to keep track of who might get in his way. Nice, dude.” He high fives Julian._

_“So?” Julian says a moment later, looking to Cessily expectantly._

_She makes a face. “Well I wasn’t_ actually _listening to what she was saying. I think his name’s Jake or something. It’s definitely a ‘J’ name. Monosyllabic, too.”_

_“Jeff?” Santo suggests._

_“Joe?” Brian adds, grinning._

_Cessily flips them both off. “I suppose you could always go over and_ ask _,” she said to Julian. “You know, he looks kind of bored over there.”_

 _Julian glances over. The kid_ does _seem a bit disinterested with what Miss Moonstar is saying; he keeps looking around the court, and only reluctantly seems to follow after Miss Moonstar when she heads back toward the school. Julian supposes he might as well say hello. The guy doesn’t look like a total loser –athletic, really. Plus, Julian’s interested in finding out what mutant abilities he has._

_Standing up, Julian says, “Alright, who’s coming with me?” he looks down at Santo, Cessily and Brian, who remain sprawled out lazily on the grass._

_Brian shields his eyes from the sun and looks up at Julian. “Not it.” He says, grinning._

_“Funny,” Cessily mutters as Santo repeats the phrase quickly. She shrugs –a difficult task as her hands are already folded behind her head. “I’ll pass, Julian. Tell us if he’s okay or not.”_

_Julian shakes his head at his traitors for friends and jogs across the basketball court, interrupting an ongoing game in order to catch up with the retreating forms of Jake-Jeff-or-Joe and Miss Moonstar._

_“Oh hey Miss Moonstar,” he says, stepping in front of them. “You know, uh, I’m pretty sure Miss Sinclair wanted to see you for something. She’s been looking for you.”_

_“Hello, Julian. Sinclair, did you say?”_

_“Yeah. I think she’s in the Med Lab.”_

_“The Med Lab?” Miss Moonstar looks startled. She turns to the teen she’s been showing around, opening her mouth to say something._

_“It’s fine,” the boy says immediately. “I can make my roommate finish showing me around if I need to, but I think I can figure it out.”_

_Miss Moonstar nods and hurries off._

_Julian snickers and turns to the boy. “Hey. You were looking a little bored. Thought I’d save you. I’m Julian Keller.”_

_“Josh Foley. I, uh, came down from Queens yesterday. My parents weren’t sure if they wanted to send me here or not.”_

_Julian nods. “So you’re kind of local, then, right? I’m from Beverly Hills.”_

_“In California?” Josh says, raising his eyebrows._

_Julian scoffs. “Where else?”_

_“So what can you do?”_

_Julian had been meaning to be the one to ask, but he shrugged. “I’m telekinetic.” He eyes Josh critically, waiting for him to ask what the hell that was._

_Josh simply nods. “You can move things with your mind._ Anything _?”_

 _“Most things,” Julian says. Grudgingly, he admits, “Of course, I still have to practice control… and I can’t move something if it’s_ too _heavy or big. Yet.”_

_Josh looks Julian over. “Can you show me?”_

_Julian looks around the yard and then reaches out and captures the basketball being dribbled across the court in a green light. He sends the basketball into the hoop across the court on the opposite side. There’s a cheer from one team and outraged shouts from the other. Smug and smirking, Julian turns back to Josh, who is laughing appreciatively._

_“Cool,” Josh says._

_“What about you?” Julian says._

_Josh shrugs. “Bio-manipulation. I can heal wounds and stuff. I thought I’d never get away from Dr. McCoy when I met him this morning. Looks like I’m gonna be stuck with him  a lot for my Power Tech classes.”_

_“I mainly have Mr. Beaubier for Flying.” Julian offers._

_“Which teacher is that?”_

_“Um, dark hair, pointy ears? Not the blue one –the gay one.”_

_Josh’s eyes light up in recognition. “Oh_ him _. He was an Olympian, right?”_

_“I think so.”_

_They fall silent. Julian nods toward where Santo, Cessily, and Brian are still lying. “Wanna hang out with us?”_

_Josh looks over. “Is that guy covered in rocks?”_

_“Nah,” Julian says. He pauses. “He’s made of rock.”_

_“Cool,” Josh decides._

_Julian takes a step toward the others and looks back, “So? You wanna come or not?”_

_Josh grins, “Yeah, okay,” he says, and as they head over, they cut through the basketball game again and this time it’s Josh who runs over and steals the ball from an unsuspecting player and tosses it to Julian, who sends it flying across the court again. The basketball soars through the hoop and Josh cheers before they’re chased off the court, cackling madly._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> dun dun DUNNNN
> 
> reaction comments, anyone?  
> Anyway, more shall be explained in the next chapter. Look forward to it, but don't look too forward... haha, it's probably going to be a bit before I update because science shows I am incapable of updating fanfic consistently during the school year.
> 
> Also, I know the New Mutants title started in 2003 (also, holy fuck! Twelve years!), but for the purpose of this story, and because time passes so slowly in comics, I am going to set it so that Julian and Josh met in 2005. That allows "Stagnation" to take place in 2014; this means "Going, Going, Gone" took place in 2009.
> 
> Notes:  
> -Julian is currently 24 and began Xavier's when he was 15 (nearly 16). He is 19 at the beginning of this series ("Going, Going, Gone") and 20 in "Soul Seeks Soul".  
> -Josh is currently 25 and began Xavier's when he was (just) 16. Josh is older than Julian by eight months (they don't have actual birthdays listed anywhere I can find).  
> -Julian is from Beverly Hills, CA in canon  
> -Josh is from Queens, NY in canon  
> -I added Brian in the epilogue of this chapter for inner angst reasons. I really liked Tag even though he didn't get a lot of limelight.  
> -I will probably not actually include a lot of Doug (Cypher) or Madison in the future because I'm not familiar with them as characters, but look forward to Delilah popping up again!
> 
> Question:   
> -Any characters you want to see in future chapters?  
> -Any plot points or character relationships/past actions you think I should spend more time addressing? Don't worry (if you are, haha), I plan on examining the concept of Josh's on-again-off-again depression (maybe the fucker will actually even get help for it, gasp! ...Let's not rush ahead of ourselves here, though)
> 
> If you have anything to say about this story, or even about anything at all, feel free to drop me a line on tumblr:   
> http://freedomworm.tumblr.com/ask  
> http://freedomworm.tumblr.com/submit
> 
> OR!!! I use QQ International and you can add me! My QQ number is 2835371826
> 
> Thank you to all readers, past and current. You are my motivation :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The long-awaited chapter four... it's a bit longer than usual, and also shamelessly self-indulgent on my part.  
> No beta, so all mistakes are my own and all that.

"Can you tell us what your name is?"

"Josh."

"Full name?"

"Joshua William Foley."

"Can you tell me how old you are?"

"I…"

"Can you tell me how old you are, the last you remember?"

"Um. Sixteen, but I look different than I remember. Older."

"That's alright. Josh, can you tell me where you live?"

"Charles Xavier's Institute for Gifted Youngsters, Salem Center, Westchester, New York."

"Can you tell me the last thing you remember?"

"…Eating breakfast? In the cafeteria. Um, Yesterday was Saturday –Mr. Wagner chaperoned… we went to... to the mall. Yeah. I played basketball before dinner."

"And can you tell me the last date you remember?"

"...the twenty-first. No, uh the thirteenth?"

"Can you tell me what month it was, the last you remember?"

"Apri… Nove –Uh, October."

"Can you tell me what year it is?"

"It's…"

"What year is the last you can say for certain it has been?"

"I remember… New Years. Two-thousand eight. Wait, that can't be right. I'm –that means I'm seventeen? Can't you just tell me what's going on?" Josh looks to the woman sitting in the chair beside his bed with a pleading look.

Dr. Sawyer shakes her head, blond hair swishing a little around her face. "I'm sorry, Josh. I know this is confusing, but I need to assess how severe your amnesia is. You understand the importance of this, don't you?"

He nods and sighs.

"Now, you say you remember two-thousand eight. Can you recall an event known as M-Day?"

"No," he says immediately, "What, did that happen?"

Sawyer nods. "November 2nd, two-thousand eight. This is good. We're narrowing down the days to the time you last remember. Do you understand the advantage in this?"

Josh makes a face. He knows she just keeps asking these kind of questions to make sure he's still with the program and hasn't shut down again or something. "Yeah, I guess. It's just so  _weird_." He picks at the edge of the blanket of his bed.

The doctors are making him stay in bed for now, despite the fact that they've established, after a couple of tests, that he is physically fine, no physical therapy necessary. They say it must have something to do with his healing abilities. Josh accepts this fact because it makes sense, and he knows he has been in a coma, but other than that, he has no clue what's been and  _is_  going on, and everyone has been frustratingly unforthcoming.

Now Josh is stuck answering some S.H.I.E.L.D doctor's questions, when he'd much rather know whether he can talk to Dr. McCoy or Miss Moonstar or Miss Grey or  _somebody_  he actually  _know_ s _._ He's never had anything to do with S.H.I.E.L.D before, though he's heard of them, and the current experience is more than a little unsettling.

Josh remembers darkness and then waking up, and seeing Keller (but had it  _really_  been Keller? It must've been, though he was older looking –less like a teenager like Julian remembered and more like an adult –like a man. Like Josh. He had seen himself in a mirror when he had been taken down the hall to a room where he had been tested for his physical condition. For over two hours, Josh had been poked and prodded and told to move this way and that, and in that time, he'd been observing his own body right along with the doctors.

He's buffer now, built with long, toned muscles that have added a certain bulk to his figure while keeping him slender. Josh is at a loss, stuck in this body that he doesn't recognize, and what's more, his skin isn't gold anymore. It hadn't been originally, of course, but Josh can distinctly recall the events that had caused him to heal himself, and he remembers the shock of seeing the glow of his powers at work fading away and leaving a layer of polished gold on his skin. When Josh had asked the doctors about it during their testing of him, he had, naturally, been given no concrete answer as to why or how his appearance had reverted to normal. What the doctors were more interested in, however (and what was extremely alarming) was something on his shoulder. It turned out that it had been a black patch of skin, dark and shiny like metal; Josh had seen it, of course, when the patch had moved over his shoulder and across his chest like something sentient.

Thinking back, Josh realizes that perhaps screaming and resisting the doctors at that moment had not been the best solution, but damn it, he's lost. He's in a body he doesn't recognize, in a place he's never been, surrounded by people he doesn't know.

"Joshua?"

He blinks, gaze focusing once more on Dr. Sawyer. "Yeah, I'm still listening," he lies. "Hey, uh, wasn't Julian Keller around a couple of hours ago? Where'd he go?"

Sawyer purses her lips, "He's been sent home for now. Don't worry, Josh. You'll be able to see your friends in good time.

Josh snorts. Friends? Him and Keller? Yeah right.

Sawyer stares at Josh for moment and then puts down the weird computer-monitor looking thing she's been writing on. "I think that's enough questions for now. I have a good idea where exactly you are in terms of memory. It's a good thing you X-Men are used to strange things, but this will still likely come as a shock." She sighs, but Josh sits up straighter and leans forward. Answers – _finally._

"The year," Sawyer says, "Is twenty-fourteen." She pauses, letting Josh take that in, and a good thing, too.

He feels his jaw slacken.

"Josh? Can you understand that? Approximately eight years have passed since you last remember. You are currently twenty-five years old. Please say something." Sawyer speaks in a slow, soothing voice.

Josh stares at her, words unwilling to come to his tongue. He thinks vaguely that he should be reacting more visibly to this news, but he can't quite bring himself to. He can understand eight years; what he can't wrap his head around is what it  _means_  –the possibilities of what has occurred, the prospect of further developments that have occurred that may send his mind reeling. "Holy shit," he finally says, weakly.

Sawyer makes a noise like a snort, quickly turned into a clearing of the throat. "I know it's a lot to take in."

"I want to see Professor Xavier.  _Now_." Josh says.

Sawyer doesn't betray any expression as she regards him.

"Or Jean Grey?" he tries, "Hank McCoy? Scott Summers? Emma Frost? C'mon, I need to talk to someone. Dani! Call Dani Moonstar. She's my guardian."

Sawyer sighs then. "Josh, you don't have a legal guardian anymore. You're of age."

"Come on!" Josh shouts. He can see that she wasn't expecting the angry outburst because she startles. "You can't keep me here," he says, moving to get out of the bed, "I want to know what's going on. I don't care how many years have passed. I just need to know how I got here and how I can remember everything again, okay? Professor Xavier can unlock my memories for me –or Miss Grey."

"Josh, please sit down," Dr. Sawyer says sharply.

"Or what? I feel fine and I want to go  _home_ ," Josh says, rounding on her.

"That's not wise," Sawyer says, "Not when you've lost so many years."

Josh scoffs. "I can handle it."

Sawyer's eyes narrow and she turns back to grab her computer device, muttering something under her breath about the bullheadedness of all her patients and wouldn't it be nice if just once, she had a patient who realized that she was professionally trained and did, in fact, know better?

She pokes at the flat screen of her device and then looks back up to Josh. "Do you know the mutant population on Earth?" she asks.

"Er… It's something like fourteen million, right?"

Sawyer shakes her head. "As of now, Cerebra is able to sense four thousand two hundred and seven mutants worldwide. This is an increase from less than four hundred mutants that remained after M-Day, also known as Mutant Decimation Day."

 _Mutant Decimation_? Josh's mind reels. Does that mean-? No.  _No_. "You're lying." He says flatly.

Sawyer pins him with a hard look, "Things  _have_  changed, Josh. Things you can't begin to understand at this point. Mentally, you're still in high school. I realize you don't like to hear this, but you… at this point, everyone is treading very carefully. This situation is slightly more complicated than say, Steve Rogers waking up after seventy years on ice. He'd been frozen in time for decades and could accept the fact that the world had changed. You, on the other hand, have been displaced from what your mind remembers."

"Treading carefully, huh?" Josh says weakly. He feels like throwing up. "Is that why I'm not allowed to see anyone, or are they just dead?"

Sawyer looks briefly alarmed. "I didn't mean to suggest your friends had all  _died_. Many mutants did die on M-Day –namely, those who were in the midst of using abilities such as flight –but most mutants and former mutants are still living."

"Most?" Josh repeats in a whisper. He feels short of breath and the room is closing in on him. Only distantly does he hear Sawyer's reply:

"Many former mutants fell on hard times, emotionally. Your X-Corporation also has a particularly high mortality rate and there –there was an uprising of anti-mutant sentiment in past years…Josh?"

He squeezes his eyes shut and takes a deep breath. "Yeah," he says tightly, "I'm listening."

"Our primary concern is discovering what has occurred to you on a physical and possibly genetic level. We'd also like to keep an eye on you and help you regain your memories, but S.H.I.E.L.D will likely be turning you over to… the group of X-Men with who you have affiliated with in the past." Sawyer says, seeming to choose her words carefully near the end. "Xavier's Institute was destroyed several terms in the past, but there's a similar school now standing in its place, known as Jean Grey's School for Higher Learning. I believe you are familiar with the headmistress, Kitty Pryde?"

"Miss Pryde?" Josh nods, wondering how his old history teacher rose to headmistress. Surely someone else would've –he blanches, recalling Sawyer's words about the mortality rate of the X-Men.

"Josh, is there anyone you'd like to see in particular, before we allow visitation?" Sawyer asks gently, "Kitty Pryde and Emma Frost are scheduled to meet with you first, otherwise. We can call Dani Moonstar, if you'd like."

Josh shrugs, too afraid if he asks for someone, he might hear that they're dead and not knowing who to ask for, besides. "Uh. Who wants to see me most? If there's maybe someone who's been waiting…" he bites down on his lower lip, feeling presumptuous, but Sawyer grins, as if at a private joke.

"I can think of a couple of people," she says.

"Er… who?"

She considers him for moment. "Some of your old classmates. I've been told that they are planning on sitting outside later this afternoon, whether or not they're permitted to see you. Shall I inform security to let them see you?"

Josh blinks, suddenly uncertain despite his previous eagerness to see someone.

Sawyer notices his expression fall. "Why don't you just talk to Pryde and Frost first, then?" she suggests.

He nods, feeling relieved.

Sawyer smiles kindly. "Are you hungry by any chance?"

* * *

Josh dreams about darkness.

He is alone and floating and it is cold. He knows if he just  _turned_  he might find a door… And then there are lights, shining in his eyes, so white, so white… Voices.

"…Can't believe they didn't notice…"

"Why would they?"

Someone's screaming, wailing, " _No no no no—"_

"Kill it!"

"I won't, I can't! Please!"

More screaming. More lights bright as the sun, right in his eyes.  _He_ 's the one who is screaming.

"Enough. Put him in suspension."

Darkness. Sweet, blissful nothing. And then something: the echo of a laugh. The haziest memory of someone smiling. Early morning sunlight streaming in through the blinds, making the room warm and—

Hands. Groping and greedy. Suffocating. "Oh yeah, oh yeah, fuck—"

"Do you like that?"

"God, you muties are something else…"

"Oh baby, I  _know_ ,"

Screaming.

* * *

For the first time since waking up, Josh is really beginning to hate the strangeness of apparently forgetting his memories. It's not as if he  _feels_  like he's forgotten anything. Well, maybe a little. His memory of yesterday –or well, the day before waking up an amnesiac –are hazy. He knows he woke up, threw a pillow at his roommate and…and took a shower? Maybe. It's a dull sort of last thing to remember.

Now, seeing Miss Frost and Miss Pryde enter the room, the reality of the situation seems more… real.

They've both aged; Miss Frost, of course, still looks elegant and drop dead gorgeous. She's wearing white as usual, with more skin covered than Josh ever remembers her having, and this is with a white blazer over something resembling half of a tank top. Her pants aren't leggings for once. She looks… matured, which is a strange thought considering she must be thirty-something and had always been extremely classy  _before_. She gives him a nod as she enters the room.

Miss Pryde is right after her, brown hair swept up in a messy bun and wearing a light blue blouse and gray trousers. She looks like a teacher, but what catches Josh's attention is her rounded abdomen.

His eyes widen.

"Hello Josh," Miss Pryde says gently, "Your nurse said you've been napping. How do you feel?"

He blinks. "Uh, yeah. Fine. Hi Miss Frost and, er, Miss Pryde?" He says the last part uncertainly, eyes dropping to the hand resting on her baby bump in search of a ring.

She laughs, and he's relieve to find that it's still the same, happy laugh that always made kids seeking her help feel better. "Rasputin-Pryde, technically," she says. "But I think you can just go ahead and call me Kitty."

"Oh," he's not sure what to do with that. "Is that what I, um, call you, usually?"

Her smile slips a little and she glances briefly to Miss Frost, who simply raises an eyebrow.

"Joshua, dear –and please do call me Emma –exactly how  _much_  have these S.H.I.E.L.D people told you about what you've forgotten?"

"Uh. I was talking to Dr. Sawyer earlier. She says I must have lost all my memories starting form sometime in two-thousand-eight before November. Is… M-Day…?" he can't bring himself to finish the question, but the women seem to understand.

"I'm afraid it's true," Kitty says gently. "But some  _things_  happened, and we're rising again. We'll talk about it another time."

"Dr. Sawyer said you're here to talk to me about what I should do when S.H.I.E.L.D lets me out," Josh says.

"Yes," Emma says, moving to stand at the foot of his bed. "We think it would be wisest if you live at one of our schools for some time –for supervisory reasons, you understand. It's likely you'll go to Jean Grey's, which stands where Xavier's once did. You'll likely be required to visit S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters for status updates at least once a month, unless Henry can convince Hill to let him be … I digress." She shakes her head, and Josh is struck with a sense of relief. He never thought he'd be happy to heard Emma drawling endlessly in that bored voice of hers, but it's nice to know she isn't as changed as much as her dressing habits.

"You have another option, is what Emma has been  _trying_  to say," Kitty rolls her eyes. "There's another school opened for mutants in Canada –British Columbia, to be exact. It's known as the New Charles Xavier School for Mutant. Xavier's, really. She runs that place. It's just another option."

Josh looks between them. "Well… where did I live before? I mean, I can't  _still_  be living at school."

Emma and Kitty exchange another Look.

"Josh, uh, has anyone filled you in on what you've been up to in recent years? At  _all_?" Kitty asks carefully.

"No?"

Kitty scrubs a hand over her face and mutters something that sounds like a death threat to the whole of S.H.I.E.L.D. "Emma, would you like to do the honors –no, wait, I'll do it,"

Josh looks between Emma and Kitty, nervousness bubbling up within him. "It's something bad, isn't it?" he says quietly.

"No –well, no, not really, especially considering how you are  _now_ ," Kitty says. She steps closer to him and rests and comforting hand on his shoulder as she looks into his eyes and says, "Josh, you died four years ago."

* * *

Julian hovers near the back of the group that steps out of the elevator and onto the floor. They've just entered the waiting room when indistinct shouting begins down the hall. Two nurses race toward the sound.

"It's under control," one nurse calls as the group of visitors makes to run after them. "Stay  _there_ ,"

"Is that Josh yelling?" Cessily says, bewildered.

"Yeah, I think so," says Santo, plopping down in one of the waiting room chairs. "Can any of you hear what he's saying?"

Victor tilts his head to the side, "…Who the hell do you think you are," he repeats flatly, "Who the hell do they think  _they_  are? I have rights, you know. Fuck my ability to cope mentally. I should be told if I've been dead –oh. He knows, I guess."

For some reason, everyone turns to look at Julian.

"What?" he grumbles, glaring back at them.

"Well he's  _your_  boyfriend, isn't he?" Megan says. "You should go in there."

" _Ex_ , first of all," Julian snaps. "Also, we were told to stay here,  _also_  he thinks he's sixteen right now and we hated each other the last time he checked."

"Who's he on good terms with then?" Noriko wonders.

"We didn't really talk," Victor says after a moment of silence, "But I guess we were civil,"

"Same," Megan declares, "You were on his squad, thought, right, Noriko? You can go in and talk to him. He'll probably be glad to see you."

"Sounds to me like he'd be glad to see anyone," Victor says, nodding toward the hall, where shouting could still be heard.

"What's he saying?" Santo asks.

"He's asking how many people are dead," Victor sighs, sharing a knowing look with everyone else. "He's saying he won't sit down until he sees someone else. He wants to see Dani," he looks to all the others, "That's okay, though, right? She's in L.A,"

"Her team is M.I.A," Sooraya pipes up, "We suspect they've been kidnapped by a vigilante Skree group. Ruth said they'll be back around in two weeks."

A nurse runs back into the waiting room. "Can one of you get in there?"

The group looks around at each other, except Julian, who glares at the floor.

"I'll go," Cessily volunteers, "Julian?"

"No way," he says at once. "Leave me out of this."

Cessily shoots him a strange look over her shoulder hurries after the nurse.

When Julian turns back, everyone's staring at him. "What?" he complains, "Why do you all keep  _looking_ at me like that?"

"Like what?" Megan says.

"Like I should be flipping out or something –like fuck, like we don't deal with this kind of shit daily and that I should be having some sort of breakdown," Julian snaps.

"Well… we're just worried. How do you feel?" Victor says.

"Pissed," Julian says. He glares around at everyone. "I'm going home," he decides. "He won't want to see me, okay?" he turns on his heel and storms out.

* * *

A familiar ginger pokes her head into the room and Josh stops, mid-rant. "Cessily?" he says.

Kitty lets out a sigh of relief. "Cessily, please come in,"

Josh stares at her, and is relieved to find that she looks more or less like he remembers. She's a little taller than he remembers, and more fit, but her skin is still silver and her red pony-tail still impossibly high and swishy.

"Hey, Josh," Cessily says softly, drawing close. Her eyes go over him, again and again, as if searching for something. "How's it going?"

"Apparently I've been dead," he says, holding her gaze. "Only  _they_  won't tell me how,"

Cessily looks from Emma to Kitty, as if assessing her options. "You were shot," she says. "Assassinated, I suppose, by an angry civilian." There seemed to be more to it, but she also seemed to be telling the basic truth.

"Where?" Josh demands. "Where did they shoot me?"

Cessily blinks. "Abdomen, just under your left pec," she says. "You died within five minutes from a combination of blood loss, shock, and due to an exertion of your powers at the time. You were in Chicago. You killed your shooter before you died."

Josh's stomach flips. "I killed somebody?" he says, horrified.

"He shot you, Josh," Cessily says sharply, "And he was –he was totally  _delusional_  and a serial killer, not to mention. He deserved it."

"Oh," he says dully. "Cessily," he blurts out finally, "What's going on?"

"Well, Dani's on a mission right now"

"-you know what I mean. What's freakin' going  _on_. Like, Miss Frost and Miss Pryde and everyone else think I'm going to break or something but it's worse not knowing who  _is_  still alive!"

"A lot of people are still alive," Cessily says, wincing a little. "And also a lot of people you don't even remember meeting yet."

Josh thought about that. He hadn't actually considered future friends… but that didn't negate the fact that he hadn't had confirmation on his  _current_  friends. "Where's the rest of the New Mutants?"

"Actually," Cessily says, brightening, "Noriko's part of the group that came today. And David's in the city –we can call him, if you want. He's part of the Young Avengers now –that's a faction of the Avengers."

"What about Jay?" Josh challenges, "Or Sofia? Or Laurie? Where's Laurie? She'd come and see me, wouldn't she?" Of course she would –she liked him, he was sure of it. Why else would she always stammer and blush more than usual when he spoke to her in fourth period History?

"Josh, you should really be resting…" Kitty spoke up.

"No, he should know," Emma says suddenly, and even though she's supporting him, he doesn't like the way she's watching him, "He'll have to find out all of these thing eventually. We can't know how long this memory loss may last before we can either call or specialist or… allow him to recover on his own."

Josh swallows hard, suddenly apprehensive and turns to Cessily expectantly.

"Sofia lives in Queens," she says, glancing repeatedly toward Emma with what could be interpreted as a look of betrayal, "Um, she lost her powers on M-Day a couple of years ago. She wasn't lucky enough to get them back after Hope— uh, how much do you know about what's happened?"

Josh shakes his head. "Not much. So Sofia's in Queens? Do you –is everyone still in touch?" One of his fears, he realized, was that everything had changed beyond recognition. So far, he was glad he could still tell who Emma, Kitty, and Cessily were. They hadn't changed  _too_  much from what he could see.

"Well, actually," Cessily clears her throat, "A couple of us… uh, made an effort to get in touch with old classmates… after you died. The people we could find. So yeah, Sofia and I actually met up like two weeks ago. She's a science teacher ...fuck, I haven't actually told her we found you yet. I'm sure she'll be glad to see you. Do you…?"

Josh shakes his head again. "What about Jay and Laurie?"

Cessily bites her lower lip and looks like she might cry. That's not good. Cessily hates crying. "I'm so sorry, Josh, they –there was this hate group, the Puritans –they died years before you, Josh. I'm sorry."

He stares at her. Laurie Collins and Jay Guthrie, dead? His mind can't put the two concepts together, not when they are …were both just so… alive. His mind keeps drawing a blank when he tries to imagine their graves. What would their tombstones even say? "What?" he says finally.

"Joshua, darling, listen here," Emma says. She moves over and gives him an awkward pat on the shoulder. "We X-Men have –frankly –a ridiculous relationship with death. You have many classmates and friends are still very much alive, I assure you, but the earth does not stop spinning. A lot has happened since early two-thousand eight. Live have been lost and missed. Up until two days ago you were one of those lives."

Josh takes a deep breath. "Y-yeah. Okay," he says finally, "I get it."

Emma raises both eyebrows, an expression of just how incredulous she is.

"I do!" he insists, "Life moves on." He looks away from her. "I want to see who came to see me."

Victor, Santo, Noriko, Megan and Sooraya file into the room.

* * *

Cessily catches Noriko's eye and receives a short head-shake in response to her silent question. She sighs internally and makes a mental note to rally Laura and possibly Eliza to her Talk to Julian cause.

Kitty and Emma make some excuses and depart, leaving the room in uncomfortable silence.

Josh stares at the assembled group quietly and Cessily tries to remember if anyone has drastically changed. They've all aged, of course, but the greatest physical changes are perhaps present in Victor's arm, Santo's second mutation and Megan's second mutation –although Cessily can't remember if Josh might recall Megan's wings turning their translucent pink and her cheek spots disappearing. When had that happened, anyway?

"Hey," Santo says finally, "Julian left a couple minutes ago."

Victor nudges him in a way he still believes is subtle after all these years.

"Oh yeah," Santo says, "They used to hate each other."

This catches Josh's attention, and the reserved expression he's been wearing makes way for indignation. "Keller and I are  _friends_?" he says with disbelief, " _That_  jerk? No way, I'd never."

Noriko snorts, "Like you weren't chummy back in the day," she says.

The tension in the room breaks as a round of snickering passes through the group.

Josh scowls, but he looks noticeable less on edge. "Uh, so, Anole –Victor –what happened to your arm?"

Santo guffaws, "He got it cut off by a bad guy but then it grew back with, like, armor,"

Victor rolls his eyes, "Yes, well, to put it simply, that is what happened. Anyway," he addresses Josh, "My second mutation kicked in. I can basically regrow any limbs I lose,"

"He's like Dr. Connors –you know, the lizard guy? 'Cept of course Vic's not crazy," Santo says.

Victor makes one of his many 'done with this' expressions. "God,  _no_ , Santo. I'm not even going to  _begin_  telling you why you're wrong. You just are." He says.

Josh observes the exchange with confused amusement written across his face. He probably doesn't remember Victor that much, Cessily realizes, and he's probably confused by Santo and Victor comradery.

"Josh," Sooraya says, "I'd just like to say how incredibly glad I am to see you again. I count it as a blessing that you have been returned to us. I feel like everything will work out for the best." She walks over and puts a hand on his shoulder. "Welcome back, Josh," she says before stepping back again.

He blinks and stares at her and suddenly Cessily can feel her eyes tearing up and  _dammit_! She told herself she wouldn't cry today.

Megan sniffs loudly, clearly not holding the same qualms, and hurries forward, flinging her arms around Josh.

He looks shocked, clearly not expecting the gesture from her, who he probably hardly remembers knowing, but Cessily know from experience that a hug from Megan is difficult to deny, and he eventually hugs her back.

Cessily follows suit, wrapping an arm around Josh, and then she feels the cold metal of one of Noriko's gauntlets and pretty soon she thinks Victor has joined the group and then there's the crushing wait of Santo hugging all of them in a giant embrace.

Cessily can feel Josh trembling and she can hear his breath shudder and she thinks that it's emotional for  _them_  to see Josh alive, but it must be equally hard for him, feeling lost in time.

"Let's never talk about this chick flick moment ever, okay?" Santo says after a little while.

Victor snorts loudly and Megan giggles.

"Sh," Noriko orders, "Just let it happen, dude."

Josh laughs shakily, and it occurs to Cessily that she hasn't heard that sound since their time at Xavier's from what seems like a lifetime ago.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *M-Day takes place November 2nd at 3:00 PM, as noted in canon. The Decimation storyline ran during 2006. Because I’ve shifted everything forward two years in this series vs comic publication, I’ve set M-Day during 2008, just a month after the last days Josh remembers. Yeah. I know. Standby for angst, haha.
> 
> *I am aware Jean Grey dies in a New X-Men issue from 2005, and thus, even with my year shifts, wouldn’t be alive last Josh remembered, but seriously? I’ve already fucked around with canon this much. Let’s all just shrug and move on. Let’s just say Jean dies just before the decimation of mutantkind and call it a day, yeah?
> 
> *Did you catch that not-so-subtle Kitty/Piotr I stuck in there? Yeah. They were like a Scott/Jean level power couple –my faith in comic romance, if you will. No, I am not being dramatic. I was furious for days. I am still furious. I will be furious until they are happily married with two point five kids.
> 
> *I would just like to make it known that I created an entire headcanon of Sofia's future, and I may or may not be having her make a short appearance later on in the fic. If you object to this, speak now, or forever hold your peace. >:)
> 
> Review if you liked this chapter and/or have suggestions on other things that I should have Josh explore.  
> What's Julian up to and when will we get our huge Julian/Josh showdown/renunion? FIND OUT ~~ON THE NEXT EPISODE OF TOTAL DRAMA X-MEN~~ next chapter.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I corrected some mistakes made in the last chapter; Josh's last memories are from eight years ago, not six.
> 
> This is like another filler chapter. Stuff will happen eventually, I promise. Josh is just...settling... I guess you could say this is the calm before the storm, huh?

Josh is discharged from the medical facility on a bright Tuesday morning. Cessily is waiting to pick him up in the lobby, and he approaches to find her in deep conversation on her cellphone.

"…I know, he's just like that. It's impossible, but please don't let him chain-smoke another two boxes. God, what was he thinking? …Yeah, no. I'm swinging by later. Can you force him to go outside? …I figured. Look, Liz, I know how weird this must be for you –really, just tell me if you don't want anything to do with this anymore and I'll" –Cessily turns around just then, sees Josh standing there and freezes. She smiles at him quickly and says, "Okay. Actually, he just got here. Talk to you later, okay? Text me if he does something stupid." She ends the call and sticks the cell in her back pocket. "Hey, Josh," she says to him.

He frowns. "Who were you talking about?"

Cessily shrugs, "Oh, it's just Julian. He gets like this from time to time," she says breezily. "You ready to go? The drive's about an hour –but you know that, of course."

Josh trails after her as they head out of the building, "What's Keller's deal, then?"

"Do you care?" Cessily says, giving him an odd look over her shoulder.

"No," he says, "I guess I'm curious. About how people are now. Did he keep his powers after… M-Day?"

"Oh yeah," Cessily nods. "He's still an X-Man, too. He just doesn't live at the school because he doesn't work there as a teacher, you know? I help with training and I'm one of the counselors."

Josh snorts. "There's more than one?" It must be the wrong thing to say, because Cessily full on turns to frown at him, walking backwards as she says, "I talk to students who may be suffering with body-image problems. It's a very serious and often-overlooked aspect of mutations. Julian was actually the one to suggest the school start a counseling program to address body-image."

Josh narrows his eyes. "Oh yeah? And what could  _he_  possibly know about feeling bad about how you look?" He thinks back to waking up and realizing his skin is flesh-toned again, not metallic gold. He thinks farther back to actually waking up  _with_  gold skin. He'd been horrified and then angry for  _weeks_  before Victor had said loudly in Biology that gold wasn't the worst skin color to have, so he ought to shut up.

Cessily stops walking then. "I thought he was there when you woke up," she says, staring at him with a thoroughly dumbfounded expression.

Josh shrugs, "What's that got to do with anything?" He hardly even remembers seeing Keller there. He just remembers the room coming into focus and the beeping heart monitor and the dark room and then wide, blue eyes peering down at him.

Cessily stares at him. "Do you happen to remember what he was wearing, actually?"

He shrugs again. "A red hoodie?"

"Ah," she turns back around and points forward, "Okay, that's our ride." She continues walking.

"Wait a second," Josh says, jogging after her, "So you're a teacher at Xavier's now?"

"It's called Jean Grey's," Cessily reminds him, "And yeah, basically. A lot of us still work with X-Corp when we're not on missions. David, of course, works at Avengers Academy,"

Josh rolls his eyes. "Avengers  _Academy_ ," he drawls, " _Please_ ,"

She snorts. "I know, right?"

They reach the dark SUV waiting for them on the sidewalk, and Cessily unlocks the door and climbs into the driver's side.

Josh hesitates, wondering if she'll make him sit in the back or –he shakes his head. He's supposed to be twenty-five. He can totally sit in the front seat. This is  _Cessily_ , even if she  _is_  a teacher now.

"You wanna listen to some music?" Cessily asks, pulling onto the street, "We could listen to the pop station or –there's a couple of CDs in the book in the glove compartment."

Josh takes the rather hefty book out and flips through the pages of CDs. There's different pages for different people, all labeled with sticky notes; there's 'Anole's Airs', 'Santo's Songs', 'Paras's Pieces', 'Ruth's Records', 'Hisako's Harmonies', 'Megan's Melodies', 'Mercury's Music', 'Julian's Jingles', 'Laura's Lullabies' –and so on. "Who wrote these?"

Cessily laughs, "It was actually Laura who started making CDs for the car. This is our non-mission transportation," she says, "But I think it was Santo who organized everything into pages while Victor labeled everything."

"Does he know 'Quentin's Chorales' doesn't actually work?" Josh says, still flipping through the pages. A couple of the CDs have been labeled or decorated with marker. Some of the sections have more CDs than others; 'Laura's Lullabies' has nearly a dozen CDs, all labeled with a string of numbers. On the other hand, 'Evan's Etudes' has two CDs in the page pocket and one of them actually says on it 'Tasteful Music For the Uneducated Masses, Brought to You By Kid Omega (you're welcome)'

Cessily shrugs, "It's the effort that counts,"

Josh selects a CD from Laura's page and puts it on. He laughs, "Celine Dion?" he says.

Cessily raises her eyebrows, glancing over to him, "You recognize this song?" she challenges.

"My mom  _loves_  Celine, Cessily. God, I can't imagine  _X-23_ listening to Celine Dion," Josh thinks back to the fairly new student. She'd been brought in by Wolverine and was actually kind of scary, though he wouldn't admit it. A thought occurs to him, "What did my parents do when I died?" he asks.

Cessily doesn't look away from the road, where they're making their way out of Manhattan. "We notified your family," she says, "One of your brothers came to the funeral."

"Joey?" Josh wonders.

Cessily squints as she tries to recall. "He was only there for the eulogies," she says apologetically, "He left quickly, but, uh, he had brownish hair, if that helps?"

Brown hair. Joey, after all, then.

Celine warbles into the silence: " _And we don't say goodbye, we don't say goodbye_ … _"_

Cessily suddenly reaches out and skips the track. She meets Josh's eye and just shrugs. "Let's listen to something more upbeat," she suggests.

They're silent for most of the rest of the ride while pop songs Josh mostly doesn't recognize plays fills the car. The city disappears behinds them and Josh is glad the roads haven't changed, even if the landscape is slightly different. Josh knows his way back home, and when Jean Grey's comes into view, it looks wonderfully like Josh remembers Xavier's and he lets out a breath of relief.

"Home sweet home," Cessily crows, driving them around back to the entrance of the underground garage.

Josh follows her silently to the elevator of the ground floor and they walk out into the lobby by the stairs just as a chime goes off that seems to signal the end of class. The halls are promptly filled with students who spill down and run up the stairs in equal amounts.

Josh stands there with Cessily as teenagers swarm around them and he has the distinct feeling that he ought to be among them, even though he's knows logically that he's  _older_. He doesn't go to school anymore.

A couple of kids look at him with brief curiosity before moving on.

A voice comes over the intercom, stern and gruff: "This is a reminder," Mr. Logan growls, "That students are not to use their powers as transportation in between classes. Stay grounded. That means  _no_   _flying_ — ya know who you are. Also, if ya provoke the Bamfs in any way, I'll know. Again, you know. Who. You. Are."

The students, hurrying to and fro and chatting loudly, hardly seem to register the announcement, but they must be paying attention, because no one is flying.

"This way," Cessily says, "I'll show you your new room,"

Josh trails after her, squeezing through the crowded halls. He's still surprised to find himself three inches taller than he last remembers, and as such he towers just a little bit over the rest of the kids.

"Marcy, that's the  _guy_ ," he hears someone hissing, "Miss Ruth said…"

-He glances over his shoulder, but the voice has trailed out of range. "Cessily," he says, catching up to her, "Does Blindfold live here?"

"She teaches the hypercognition tech classes," she says, nodding and leading them up the stairs toward the old staff rooms. "We're setting you up in one of the guest rooms," she tells him, "And Juh…uh, well, we gave away all your old stuff. Luckily, we have a ridiculous amount of extra clothes. Most of it will be from the school store, though. Hope you like X-Corp t-shirts."

They've reached the hall of the staff bedrooms by this point and the noise of the students is only a faint rumble in the distance.

"This one's yours, then," Cessily says, opening the door to one of the rooms and waving him inside.

The staff (guest) room is much larger than the old dorms Josh remembers. They walk into what appears to be a living room with a sofa and a large T.V screen hung up on the wall. There's a bedroom connected, and Josh can see at  _least_  a wardrobe, desk, and queen sized bed in the next room. It had been commonly thought that Josh had been well-off before coming to Xavier's but at most, he'd been from an upper middle class family and a bedroom like this is still ridiculous. "Holy shit," he says excitedly, "Dude, is  _your_  room like this?"

Cessily nods. "It's a step up from the dorms, huh?"

"Totally. Dude, this is freakin'  _awesome_ ," Josh turns around to see Cessily staring at him, eyebrows halfway up her forehead. "What?" he says.

"Nothing," Cessily says slowly. She laughs a little and says, "I mean. Sorry. You just sound like one of the kids. It's funny."

Josh rolls his eyes, "'One of the kids'? Don't make yourself sound  _old_ , Cessily," he says.

She makes a face and sticks out her tongue. "Alright, alright. I'll let you get settled, I guess. Hank is coming over later to see you. He wants to talk about -well, your skin, I guess. After that, you're supposed to meet with Kitty and some agents from S.H.I.E.L.D." she purses his lips, "They're going to talk to you about how we found you,"

"Freakin'  _finally_ ," Josh says. Everyone has been frustratingly vague about everything surrounding his death. Oh, he knows how he  _died_  –shot, supposedly, but an angry civilian –but where had he been? What had he done to get shot? How had his death become relevant enough to cause him to come  _back_  to life? What  _happened_  in the eight years since Josh last remembered? Why didn't he remember the years up until he died? It was pretty  _stupid_ , Josh decided. Either that, or a really weird and imaginative dream.

"I'll leave you to it, then," Cessily says, "I have an office on the third floor, if you wanna find me."

"Alright,  _Miss_   _Kincaid_ ," Josh says, adding a smile in for good measure. Him smiling seems to make Cessily happier –it seems to make everyone happier, like they haven't seen him smile in a while. They haven't, he supposes, not for four years.

Cessily leaves him alone in his new room and he wanders around, checking out the bathroom in the bedroom and noting that the mini-fridge in the living room is already stocked with soda and…beer.

Josh grins and takes one and searches the drawers in the room for a bottle opener until he finds one in the desk. It takes him a little bit to figure out how to fit the bottle opener over the beer cap, but he gets it eventually and manages to open the bottle with a  _pop_. He takes an eager swig and nearly spits it out. "What the hell?" he says. And Mr. Logan had been making it seem like beer was a  _good_  thing all these years. It's disgusting. He puts the bottle down on the closest table he can find and turns to find something to turn the T.V on with instead.

He's glad to find that prime time T.V has remained mind-numbingly dull even after all these years and he watches some sort of talk show for a little while. His mind drifts to other things after a while, as it has in the hours since he's woken up in this strange future world. He wonders if he should try calling Joey, who had actually gone to his funeral. They'd gotten along even after Josh came to Xavier's. Maybe he should ask someone if he's allowed to call his brother. He'd be… well, if Josh is supposed to be twenty-five, then Joey would be what, thirty? Holy crap. He's probably  _married_  by now. Josh wonders if his number is still the same –if his e-mail is the same.

At some point, he must drift off on the sofa in front of the television because when he opens his eyes, he's in a different room.

_It's dimly lit and the air is musty. Josh sits on a dark red bed cover and he's got a used napkin clutched in one hand. He stands, tosses the tissue toward the trash bin and pulls his pants on –his freakishly tight, leather pants. He snags a matching leather jacket off the seatback of the only chair in the room. "John, darling," Josh finds himself saying, "I'll take that other half now,"_

_A man emerges from the bathroom, tying a tie back around his neck. He's middle-aged, dark haired and a bit pudgy. "Yes, yes, of course," he says, moving over to where his suit jacket is strewn over the motel's table. He reaches into the pocket and pulls out a white envelope and hands it over._

_"Lovely," Josh opens it, and takes out a wad of bills that he begins counting. He finds it in order and tucks the money back in the envelope and into an inside pocket of his jacket, which he apparently finds okay to wear over no shirt whatsoever. He smiles, "You know where to find me if you need me," he says._

_The john nods, "I'll go out first then, uh"_

_"-Yes, I know how it goes." Josh says, laughing. It sounds fake to his ears. "I'll see around, babe." He makes a shooing motion and the john coughs and stumbles away, still staring back at him._

_Once the door closes, Josh lets the smile drop. He checks his watch. It's nearly seven, but he's not too far away from the club. He can probably still get there on time even if he stops by Julian's Starbucks to get a Frappucino. God, he loves those._

_Josh grins to himself and heads out of the motel._

_The Starbucks is crowded, but Josh can see Julian working behind the counter, in the middle of taking someone's order. He writes a name on a cup and glances up at that exact moment and catches Josh's eye from across the room. He frowns, which makes Josh grin even more, some immature part of him taking great joy in getting on Julian's nerves. He waves a little and gets a glare for his efforts._

_The room changes and Josh is staring up at some_ guy _, some_ guy  _who's sweating and grunting and_ thrusting _. Oh God, he's having sex, isn't he? He's getting screwed by someone who's old enough to be his_ dad _._

 _And he can't even feel it, that's the thing. Josh is lying here but he's not really, is he? This is a dream or some sort of nightmare and he's having sex but he can't feel it. He can hear it, this guy just moaning and –honestly –sounding like a broken record ('oh yeah, oh yeah, yeah, fuck, oh_ yeah _, fuck yeah') and he can hear his own occasional words of encouragement. But he's not there and somehow he must be._

_Josh doesn't want to be here, but try as he might, he can't open his mouth to protest. He's trapped and he's –well, he's fucked. He'd laugh, but he can't find his voice._

* * *

Josh startles awake to the sound of someone knocking on the door.

The knocking stops just as he sits up and the door opens instead, letting in a lanky pink-haired guy with dark rimmed glasses. "Jesus fucking  _Christ_ , Foley! Stop broadcasting your weird sex dreams. You know there's at least  _two_  kid telepaths here, okay? If you're going to share your weird sex dreams, share one, I dunno, that's actually instructional, maybe. At least  _then_  you could have some sort of  _excuse_." He throws his arms up dramatically at the end and heaves a great sigh.

Josh blinks and gets to his feet, "Uh, sorry, what? Wait, who are you?"

The guy rolls his eyes. "Quentin Quire? Kid Omega? Ugh, I can't expect you to remember me, I suppose. Don't you remember the riot, at least? You were there for that."

Josh stares at Quentin for a little longer and suddenly recalls a guy a year or two older than him starting the riot that got one of the Cuckoos killed. "Didn't you get turned into, like, a ball of gas?"

"Ugh, don't remind me," Quentin says, rolling his eyes. "Most boring years of my  _life_ ," He looks Josh over with narrowed eyes. "Hmph. So the rumors are true."

"What rumors?" Josh says, feeling self-conscious.

Quentin waves a hand dismissively, "Oh, there are none. S.H.I.E.L.D and everyone are very hush-hush. I've just always wanted to say that." He looks around the room, "Have you been here all morning? God, you'd think you'd want to go and see everyone."

"I –I was asleep," Josh says, still a little groggy. "Wait, what weird sex dreams?"

"Are you serious?" Quentin says. He shudders, "Never mind, I don't want to think of it. Alright, come on, you don't have anywhere to be for another couple of hours. You need to get out of this room,"

Josh looks around the room and shrugs, "Alright," he says, following Quentin out.

Quentin moves quickly, striding down the middle of the hallway with pompousness Josh does not remember seeing the few times he remembers seeing Quentin before the riots. He hurries to catch up.

"So they let you stay here?" he asks, "Even after what you did?"

"Let me?  _Stay_  here?" Quentin scoffs, "God, if only I could  _leave_ ," he raises a fist to the ceiling and shakes it. "So –and just to be clear, of course –do you really not remember anything after waking up eight years ago?"

Josh shakes his head. "No, I don't."

Quentin turns sharply, but keeps walking, just backward. He stares at Josh. "You know, your memories are probably just locked up somewhere in your head. I could probably get them out for you,"

It sounds like a good offer –too good, from someone Josh can't remember speaking more than three words to. "What's in it for you?"

Quentin shrugs, "I'd get to sate some curiosity," he says, "And I'm sure everyone else would stop acting so jumpy if they knew they didn't have to tiptoe around you."

" _Are_  they tiptoeing around me?" Josh frowns.

"Well I can tell you everyone's afraid talking about –sorry,  _mentioning_  Keller too much is gonna set off some sort of  _bomb_ ," Quentin says, rolling his eyes.

Josh's frown deepens. "Keller? Why?"

Quentin smirks, "You'd know if you could remember," he says.

"My doctor wants me to recover my memories on my own," Josh says finally.

Quentin turns back around to walk down the stairs, "Suit yourself," he says in a sing-songy voice.

Josh hurries after him, "So what are we doing right now?"

"You're coming with me to meet some of the kids I babysit,"

"You mean teach?" Josh wonders.

Quentin snorts. "Nope," he turns the right way around just in time to descend the stairs, "Look, I'm not  _teacher_  material. I'd tell you my sad tale, but I doubt you'd be able to truly understand the scope and depth of the Greek tragedy that is my life. The fact is, I can't seem to escape this shitty limbo hellhole except on, you know, world-saving type events. You know, some people might say this all started when I instigated that riot some years back, but if you ask me…" And then Quentin proceeds to unload his Greek tragedy upon unwilling ears.

Josh eventually tunes out the rambling and stares vacantly after Quentin as he prattles on, waving his hands every once in a while to illustrate some point.

They head down a corridor on the second floor that has different door placement than Josh remembers. The hall appears to be home to more dorm rooms, but the room that they eventually arrive at is behind glass doors with a metal frame and viewing window. The room itself appears to contain a jungle and when Quentin opens the door, he unleashes the sounds of birds squawking and hooting and bugs chirping.

"Is that-?" Josh begins to ask, following Quentin into the room.

"Computer simulated," says Quentin with some distaste in his voice. He reaches over and flicks at a tree and everything flickers before their eyes.

When Josh blinks, the room is no longer a jungle but a reasonably sized room with cushioned walls and several bars running across the ceiling, not to mention small circus rings like the ones acrobats use.

Quentin's hand rests on a control panel with switches and slides. "Welcome to Hell," he says flatly. "Bamfs!"

The air is suddenly filled with blue and purple smoke and vaguely sweet scent as nearly two dozen blue creatures pop into existence. Some of them are larger than others and bear strange markings; some of smaller and chubbier with shorter tales, but they're all some shade of blue and in that moment they're all staring at Quentin and Josh with yellow eyes and fanged grins.

"What  _are_  they?" Josh says in horror. They could possibly  _all_  be Mr. Wagner's children –wait, Mr. Wagner was a  _priest_. Could he even  _have_ children? And why weren't they wearing  _clothes_? Dear God, they didn't have any  _junk_.

Quentin sighs, unimpressed, "They're Bamfs. Dr. McCoy says he accidentally let them in during an experiment before the school opened. I dunno, but they're utter  _pains_  –hey! No, get off him, Bamf Fifteen!"

A couple of the Bamfs have crept closer to them and one of the smaller ones has even  _bamf_ ed onto Josh's shoulder.

Quentin glares at it. " _Logan_  put me in charge of their ' _care_ ' two years ago," he explains, "Because he's trying to send me to an early grave and these little gremlins are all co-conspirators in his grand plan." He extends his glower to the rest of the room. "Guys, this is Josh Foley.  _Josh_."

"Bamf!" a couple of the Bamfs chirp.

"Urgh," Quentin says, "Alright, it's second lunch period. That means  _nap_  time. We'll start with roll call to make sure everyone is here, and then it's Bamfmington's turn to pick the room setting."

Josh raises his eyebrows. "Did you name them?" he wants to know.

"I named all of the ones nobody else got a chance to drunkenly nickname," Quentin says, "They stick to their names, no matter how dumb they are.  _Rockslide_  named Bamfmington." He turns back to the room, "Alright, Abraham Lincoln?"

"Bamf!" says a tiny Bamf sitting inside something that looks like a large birdhouse.

"Arnold Schwarzenegger? "

"Bamf!" says one of the large Bamfs hanging upside-down from one of the ceiling rings.

"Bamf?"

"Bamf!"

"Bamfer?"

"Bamf!"

"Bamf Fifteen?"

"Bamf!"

"Bamf Junior?"

"Bamf!"

"Bamfmington?"

"Bamf!"

"Bamfmington Junior?"

"Bamf!"

"Baramf Obama?"

"Bamf!"

"Coco?"

"Bamf!"

"Don Draper?

"Bamf!"

"Elliot Ness?"

"Bamf!"

"Ellie Ness?"

"Bamf!"

"Jimbo?"

"Bamf!"

"Logana?"

"Whiskey!"

"Loganator?"

"Whiskey!"

"Logan Junior?"

"Whiskey!"

"Logan Junior the Third?"

"Whiskey!"

"Logan Junior Rocks?"

"Whiskey!"

"Hey! Christ's sake, Wolvie, leave Scooter  _alone_ —"

* * *

It takes longer than Josh could ever imagine to get the Bamfs sorted for their nap, but it's an entertaining task, and Josh forgets everything else for a while as he helps Quentin find all of the Bamfs a perch for their nap. Bamfmington ends up picking a beach setting for the room, and it's difficult to find a way to fit the Bamfs into palm trees when they don't have branches.

Quentin and Josh emerge from the room an hour later, a little worse for wear.

"If you're hungry, you can probably find something in the staff lounge kitchen," Quentin tells Josh, "McCoys expects you downstairs in like, two hours, but  _I'm_  going to be in Logan's office to find a way to make his life more miserable for the next hour. I like to think we have a standing appointment at this point." He huffs a sigh and spins on his heel, marching off in another direction and leaving Josh to figure out where to go from there.

It occurs to him, as he's wandering around in search for the staff lounge, that he somehow let Quentin distract him from what he'd been meaning to ask –about Keller.

Honestly, Josh thinks, what the hell is so special about Julian Keller, anyway?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Logan’s not gonna stay dead and we all know it. Like please. His death could’ve been avoided in the first place if Marvel just let him be one of the characters who got to settle down and fade into the background, only to make a couple of appearances in the adventures of the younger generations. Seriously.
> 
> * “Riot at Xavier’s” was published the same year the “New Mutants” title began. I figure the riots occurred a little after Josh came to the school.
> 
> *Quentin Quire is a fun character to write, even if I am doing it all wrong, haha.
> 
> *I didn't even get out of the names I wanted to for the Bamfs. Who are Quentin's actual children, okay. He secretly loves them. Logan Junior the Third is his best friend.
> 
>  
> 
> Lastly, please review.... dear god, I am desperate for feedback...


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *NC= nasal cannula, the tube that runs under a patient’s nose and carries a mix of air and oxygen to them. Not to be confused with nasogastric intubation (NG tube) that goes IN to the nose.
> 
> ....Another chapter in which not much happens... Laura will be back soon; 1 or two chapters soon.  
> Julian's back for next chapter. :)  
> Please review~  
> What obstacles shall we make these characters face?

The Med Lab is more or less how Josh remembers it, neat and sterile and shiny.

He steps forward hesitantly and the glass doors slide shut behind him with a soft swishing sound. Josh looks around the room, whose hospital beds are blessedly unoccupied, and eventually decides to head toward where he hopes Dr. McCoy's office is still located. "Hello?" he calls on the way, "Dr. McCoy?"

A great blue, bespectacled head emerges from a doorway. His fur looks shorter and he seems to have grown even larger, but Hank McCoy grins all the same, bright and kind. "Oh my stars and garters," he says, coming out to meet him, "Joshua Foley, you certainly are a sight for sore eyes,"

Josh feels a smile spread across his face as he's enveloped in a hug that feels more like he's falling into a giant pillow –a giant pillow that lifts him off his feet. He's laughing by the time he pulls away. "It's good to see you, too, Dr. McCoy," he says.

Hank chuckles, "Well, come this way, Josh." He ushers Josh into his office-lab, "I'm going to take a couple of DNA swabs, and then most of what we'll be doing is talking. S.H.I.E.L.D sent over the file they compiled for you, including the physical you took upon waking up,"

Josh nods, "Okay."

Hank does a cheek swab, takes a hair and skin sample and draws some blood, and hums the whole time.

It's familiar, Josh finds, sitting in Hank's office. He'd already been having one-on-one mentoring sessions with Hank before… all this. After the tests, Hank takes a seat behind his desk and Josh settles into the seat in front of him.

"Would you like anything? Tea? Coffee?" Hank asks.

Josh shakes his head.

"Well, then, let's get started." He opened the file from S.H.I.E.L.D. "Now, Julian Keller was the only one present at the time of your awakening, and he gave S.H.I.E.L.D an account of what occurred." Hanks adjusts his glasses and read, "At around four-thirty A.M of November twenty-third, twenty-fourteen, I –Julian Keller –awoke in the patient's room and realized that he was awake. He did not appear fully away of his surroundings right away, and made no indication of being able to hear me when I spoke to him. After about half a minute, wherein the patient seemed to be mustering the strength, he removed his NC. At this point, the patient's movements had turned from stiff to fluid. After removing the NC, the patient was still. His skin and hair rippled in a movement reminiscent to that of Codename Mystique, and his appearance was changed to as it is presently. The transformation took a second at most. The patient blinked and from this point on, acted as if he had woken up at that moment instead of before. He appeared disoriented and I immediately realized that he had most likely suffered some retrograde amnesia."

When Hank finishes speaking, there's a moment of silence while he lets Josh processes this information.

"So… what, I woke up and I changed my appearance? Am I a shape-shifter now or something?" he says.

Hank smiles a little but shakes his head, "Not in the way you're thinking, most likely. S.H.I.E.L.D took a blood sample, but they didn't take a skin sample from you. I'll be sending one over after I run my own tests. Dr. Sawyer at S.H.I.E.L.D already reported that the make-up of your X-Gene doesn't have the same genetic code to trigger shape-shifting as Mystique's does. However, it's possible that the appearance change is restricted to the epidermis layer of your skin and may fade away over time. Our mutations work in strange, often unpredictable ways," Hank muses, "Your appearance may be the result of a subconscious mechanism –to make sure you weren't shocked at the way you looked when you awoke, if you will."

Josh frowns, "Wait, so it's all in my head? That doesn't make sense. It was more shocking to see myself like this," he waves a pale hand between them to make his point.

Hank purses his lips, looking thoughtful. Then he says, "Describe to me the differences between how you look now and how you feel you should look."

Josh makes a face and sighs. "I should be a little shorter. Gold skin. Um, less muscular, I guess. That's about it. Hey, if I've been dead, shouldn't I be, like, physically...eh?" He makes a flimsy motion with his hand.

Hank seems to understand the meaning, "Yes, ideally –or rather, realistically, you should be going through weeks if not months of physical therapy to recover your strength. However, your healing factor appears to have kicked in for that." He's momentarily distracted as he turns to his a huge dual monitor setup that is his computer. He pulls up a file with a picture of Josh that he remembers getting taken. "Now, whatever triggered your appearance to change set you back to how you might look without your mutation. I'll tell you now that over the years, your mutation caused your appearance to continue to evolve." He turns one of his monitors toward Josh just as an image appears on screen. It's a mugshot, time stamped to March, 2009.

Josh stares at it for at least a minute before he realizes that it's  _him_ , hair white rather blond, skin gold, and frown firmly in place. Also—

"I have no pupils," says Josh, raising his eyebrows.

"Your eye color actually turned a very light gray around twenty-eleven. Normally, pupils appear black because they absorb light –well, your pupils are gray. Theoretically, you should be blind of course, but it's interesting, you see…" Hanks seems to realize he's rambling and he clears his throat, "Well, the point is, your appearance now is closer to it would've been as you remember it."

"What about the black …spot?" Josh wonders.

Hank looks through the S.H.I.E.L.D file, "That should go away," he says with a surprising amount of certainty. He glances up and catches Josh's questioning look, "This has happened before." He explains, "The spot is psychosomatic."

"So it'll go away?"

"It may not even be present right now," Hank smiles

Josh nods, feeling comforted. He wants to ask what caused the spot the last time –he wants to ask about a lot of things, but he doesn't because he doesn't, and part of it is because he's frightened of the answer, and another part is because he doesn't want to see the expressions that flicker across everyone's faces before they hide it behind a kind smile.

Josh is quiet as Hank goes on about things he'll be looking for in the DNA tests and how Josh should perhaps refrain from using his powers until the results come back.

It's five o'clock when Josh is let go with the reminder that he has a meeting with Miss Pryde and S.H.I.E.L.D later on.

He wanders through the school halls, watching students come and go with far more purpose in their steps, and eventually finds himself making his way outside to a Memorial Garden much larger than he remembers.

The addition of statues and graves creates a heavy feeling against Josh's chest, like he's being crushed.

He finds rows and rows of graves for people he remembers, people he feels like he's seen just a couple of days ago, and his legs give out beneath him when he sees the light gray square on the ground that reads 'Laurie Collins, 1992-2008'.

Josh just sits there and he thinks maybe he should cry or  _something_ , but he can't really bring himself to because –more than ever –it doesn't feel  _real_.

He doesn't know how long he sits there, between tombstones, when he hears the crunch of yellowing grass behind him. He doesn't say anything, and whoever else is in the garden moves away to a stone elsewhere and is lost from view behind the hulking statue of what appears to be Warpath.

Josh doesn't bother moving, but now that he knows someone else is in the Memorial Garden, he wonders if he ought to leave. There's something awkward about two people separately roaming a cemetery so small.

The footsteps near once more and stop and Josh glances up to meet a frozen gaze.

Julian Keller looms over him, wearing a gray coat with a bag slung over his shoulder and a depleted bouquet of flowers in his hand, which is encased in some sort of metal glove, or one that has a hyper-realistic pattern on it.

Keller blinks and then he's frowning and moving past him to place the last of the flowers on the grave beside Laurie's. The stone reads 'Brian Cruz, 1991-2008' and Josh can't imagine how awful it must have been, to lose a best friend to an act of hate.

With the flowers in their place, Keller turns, as if to leave, but stops and turns back. He reaches into his pocket, pulls out a cigarette and sticks it in a mouth. He takes his time, lighting the end and taking a draw. "How are you?" he says finally, smoke billowing from his mouth and nose.

Josh climbs to his feet. "Alright," he says stiffly. "I was just…" he shrugs, because it's pretty obvious what he's been doing. He forces back the urge to be rude because there's something  _different_  about Julian Keller, just as there's something a little different about everyone. "Your lungs probably hate you, you know," he ends up saying.

Keller, who's in the middle of inhaling, suddenly makes a choking sound and coughs.

"Told you," Josh says as Keller begins to keel over, still coughing.

He shakes his head as he straightens up, "You surprised me," he says. "I wasn't expecting to hear that," He waves smoke out of his face and then continues smoking, the prick.

Josh frowns. "So are you visiting or something? Cessily said you didn't live here."

Julian follows his gaze to the bag over his shoulder. "Yeah. I, er, well I always stay for a week around Thanksgiving and Christmas."

Josh is about to protest that Thanksgiving isn't for another couple of months when he takes a look at the autumn foliage around him and remembers that it's not when he thinks it is. "Oh. When's Thanksgiving?"

"In four days,"

"Oh."

Julian is still staring at Josh with a wary sort of expression and Josh figures now's a good time to ask some of his endless number of questions. "Okay, what?" Josh says. "Everyone keeps making it sound like you –you're different now or  _something_. Quentin said"

"- _Quire_  needs to shut his mouth," Julian says sharply.

"So what's so great about you?" Josh challenges.

"Nothing," Julian says flatly. He sighs, and this time he blows smoke deliberately into Josh's face. "So how's it feel, being sixteen again? Or rather, just sixteen?" He raises his eyebrows at Josh, waiting for an answer.

"Like crap," Josh says, even though there are other things he could say –better things – _smarter_  things, probably.

"Oh yeah?" Julian says, lazily, like he couldn't give less of a damn, and something about the totally casual way he's watching Josh makes him angry. What's so great about  _this_  Julian? He doesn't seem all that different. He's still –still…  _infuriating_. Still acting like Josh isn't worth any time in the world, like it's a chore to talk to him.

"Yeah," Josh says angrily, "I'm still me.  _I_  don't remember being dead but people keep just – _urgh_  –I can tell everyone thinks I'm going to lose it if they tell me too much. I already know most of the people I saw less than a week ago are supposed to be  _dead_  now, how worse could it possibly get? And then there's this guy who's supposed to be  _me_  but I'm not  _him_  and I feel like everyone's disappointed I'm not exactly who they remember. Well you know what? Neither are you people!" His voice has been rising steadily throughout his rant and he's yelling by the time he finishes. He's breathing hard when he says, "I hate this place." He meets Julian's gaze but it's still unfathomable.

"Everything changes," Julian says finally. "It's inevitable. We're all older"

"-That's not what I mean,"

"And we've been through a lot that you don't remember. So yeah, things have changed. You have to learn to get over it." Julian says, and isn't that hilarious, one the most stubborn jerks Josh knows, telling him to get over it. Julian must sense this line of thought making its way through Josh's mind because he says, "Look. We look different, we act a little different." He shrugs, "What's so wrong with that?"

Josh stares at him, unwilling to concede. " _You_  don't look so different," he says finally. He hasn't not really; Julian's face hasn't changed all that much, his hair still sticks in every which direction, and even still stands in more or less the same way, leaning his weight against one side, hip jutting out slightly to the side.

Julian laughs –actually  _laughs_ , throwing his head back before he doubles over, still in hysterics.

Josh frowns when Julian drops his cigarette in the grass. He extends his foot to crush it into the ground, lest the burning end catch fire with the dry autumn grass.

Finally, Julian begins to calm and he straightens up, "What the  _hell_  do you think these are?" he says, holding up his hands.

Josh stares at them, and the sun glints off the metal of Julian's gloves. He shrugs. "Your hands?"

The last of Julian's mirth slips away and now he just stares at Josh in disbelief. "I'm not wearing  _gloves_ , you moron," he says.

"Hey," Josh objects, glaring.

Julian sighs and holds out both hands, palms to the sky, "Take them," he says.

"No," Josh says at once. Then, "Why?"

"Just do it,"

So Josh takes Julian's hands and the metal covering is cold to the touch, but what is more surprising is the solid feeling of them. Before Josh has much time to contemplate that, though, Julian steps back, dropping his arms. And leaving his hands behind.

Josh startles, stepping back and dropping the –the whatever they are.

The things –prosthetics, he supposes –are finely crafted with paneled metal that is molded into the shape of a hand and wrist. There are ball joints at the knuckles and wrist that Josh previously believed to be a design, and they must be what helps to give the prosthetics such fluid motion.

The zoom up into the air, momentarily encased in Julian's signature green telekinetic aura before entering Julian's coat sleeves. He shakes out his arms and the hands reappear at the openings of the sleeves, as if locked in place.

Julian isn't looking at Josh. He pushes up one sleeve up to his elbow, revealing the cutoff of his arms just past the elbow. His prosthetic hand floats a couple inches from the rest of his arm, exactly where a hand ought to be. "I do look different," he says.

Josh suddenly remembers his conversation with Cessily earlier that day and her knowing 'ah' when he'd said Julian had been wearing a red hoodie and he kind of wants to sink into the ground. He's been somewhat an asshole about the situation, but honestly, how was he supposed to know Julian had become a  _double amputee_? And was that it? Was that why people were so wary about mentioning Keller? Did Josh have something to do with him losing his hands? Josh suddenly feels sick. He'd  _killed_  someone, according to Cessily. What if he  _did_  cause Julian to lose his hands?

"I'm…" Josh wants to say  _sorry_ , but then he remembers this is Julian Keller, who probably hated every pitying glance he ever got, and so he says, "I should've done something."

Julian still doesn't meet Josh's gaze. "You weren't there," he says, "There was nothing you could've done. You were dealing with your own…problems."

Silence falls heavy between them and finally, Josh says, "Well, I have a meeting…" He motions toward the school and after an awkward pause, turns and walks off in that direction. He hears the crunching of grass behind him and turns to find that Julian is following him a couple of paces back.

They walk back to the mansion like that, awkwardly out of pace as they head in the same direction.

Josh isn't quite sure where to go, so he just heads toward where he remembers the headmaster's office to be. Xavier and then Mr. Summers's old office now has a plaque that reads 'Kitty Pryde'. He raises his hand to knock on the door before he realizes that Julian is still standing behind him. He turns, frowning, "What're you doing?" he demands.

Julian shrugs. "I have an appointment." He says, and he reaches past Josh to knock on the door.

 _Come in_ , Emma Frost's voice echoes through Josh's mind and he shoots Julian a dirty look before he pushes open the door, which he can tell Julian was totally planning to do and –goddammit –Julian needs to keep outside of Josh's  _space_.

The interior of the office is different from what Josh is expecting. Instead of the imposing desk across from the door, Josh finds that Kitty has couches and a loveseat set up in around a coffee table in the middle of her room. There's a desk pushed off in a corner and lined with picture frames. The walls are similarly personalized with class photos of kids in their black and white school uniforms. Josh spots a couple that look older, too, with students dressed in squad uniforms Josh recognizes.

Emma, Kitty, and a couple people Josh doesn't know are seated in the circle of couches in the room, with a couple in chairs pulled up next to the couches. One person in particular –a blue robot woman –stands out in particular.

"Mr. Foley –and Keller –thank you for joining us here today," says a woman in a navy S.H.I.E.L.D uniform. "I'm Agent Wang, Department of Mutant Affairs," she waves toward two open spaces on a couch, "Please, have a seat."

Josh glances back at Julian, who's dropped his bag on the ground by the door, and then goes over to sit in the space by the armrest, leaving Julian to sit on his other side next to the blue robot lady.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, first of all," Agent Wang says, which earns her sharp looks and Josh's vague amusement. "We've gathered here to discuss what happened between the time of your death during the conclusion the Darren Jurney case in twenty-ten and the discovery of your resurrection on November twentieth of this year." She's taken out some files to reference but glances up in time to see Josh's look of utter confusion and offers him a sympathetic expression. "It'll be explained shortly."

"Hello –yes, Agent Higgs here –Mr. Foley, this is Danger," another S.H.I.E.L.D agent Josh has been ignoring suddenly demands his attention only to avert it to the blue lady sitting on Julian's other said. "To cut down on time, she has agreed to organize a presentation on past events. Danger, if you'll start the narrative…"

Danger stands and goes over to a white board on wheels, turning it so it faces the group sitting down. "Hello, Josh," she says in a cool, female voice. "We have met before." She addresses the rest of the room when she says, "During the month of December twenty-ten, the city of Chicago, Illinois, was afflicted by a series of murders known publicly as the Angel Maker killings." The lights of the room suddenly dim and Danger's eyes appear to become projectors, casting the image of several news articles onto the white board. "On December twenty-eighth, these killings came to a conclusion with the death of Darren Jurney, a wealthy socialite from Atlanta." The images flicker to several candids of a relatively handsome man, perhaps in his thirties. "Jurney's victims were all discovered in alleys, hair bleached and gold ring painted behind them." The images flicker to crimes scenes, reminiscent of something from a crime show.

Agents Higgs clears his throat. "Move on, please," he says.

The image flicks to an online news article that reads 'ANGEL MAKER, X-MAN KILLED IN CONFRONTATION', and shows their faces side by side. "It is believed that Jurney and Foley had met briefly at some point in early twenty-ten, and from this encounter, Jurney had become obsessed. His victims, rather than being an homage to a celestial power, are thought to be an imitation of Josh Foley." Danger says.

Josh stares at the screen, not yet ready to feel shock or –or  _anything_. He just listens and watches and wishes it weren't happening.

"On the evening of December twenty-eighth, Cessily Kincaid and Josh Foley were resting in room five-thirty of a Mariott Hotel. According to Miss Kincaid's statements, at approximately six-thirty in the evening, a man arrived at the room and entered, holding Josh, who had opened the door, at gunpoint. Kincaid's statement indicates that this man, who was actually Darren Jurney, had been earlier introduced to her as 'Josh' by Julian Keller, who had briefly met Jurney through work at a local café."

Josh glances to the side at Julian, but his expression is carefully blank as he watches Danger's presentation, but his fists are clenched in his lap.

"…at which point Julian Keller entered the room, and Jurney was distracted," Danger has continued in the meantime. "Jurney fired a shot, which Keller repelled telekinetically, and the bullet ricocheted and hit Foley, who collapsed, and drew Jurney's attention once more. Foley made contact with Jurney at this point and entered the omega phase of his mutation, infecting Jurney with a mixture of third-degree burns, flu, and an evolved strain of the AIDs virus, which has since been destroyed. Jurney died around six-thirty-seven in the evening. Foley was declared dead by Kincaid at six-forty." The final image ends on a scan of Josh's medical file, upon which a large, red 'DECEASED' has been stamped.

"Thank you, Danger," Agent Wang says softly. "Please bring up security footage from the bunker. Go to the first event." She turns to Josh, "Your body was presumed to have been buried here at Jean Grey's School. However, we believe that F.O.H agents intercepted the coffin on the route from Chicago to New York, and because the funeral was close-casket, it was never suspected that the body was swapped. On screen here is security footage from an F.O.H bunker in New Mexico that we've managed to obtain from a liberated technopath, who had been forced to act as their A.I system."

The video footage shows a dimly lit sort of room, clearly underground, where two men bring a body bag over to metal table around which two men in white lab coats await. Even though he knows what's about to happen, Josh is still surprised when the bag is unzipped to reveal his body, black rather than gold. The scientists or doctors move around the table, presumably discussing something, though there's no audio to the footage, so Josh doesn't know what.

One of the scientists, who's leaning over Josh's abdomen in the video, visible starts, and turns to people off screen.

* * *

 _"It's_ breathing _! I thought they said it was dead."_

_"Never mind that, get a sedative."_

_"What are we supposed to do with it now?"_

_"This isn't an obstacle, Dave –we can use this. Don't you understand? It will always heal itself afterwards."_

* * *

Josh blinks, rapidly, and forces himself to focus on what Agent Wang is saying.

"…removed from suspension less and less over the years, until twenty-twelve, when we suspect there was some sort of management change. Interest in your biology resurfaced," Agent Wang is saying.

"Is this necessary?" Julian suddenly says, and when Josh looks over, he's standing. "Seriously? You gonna make him watch his own autopsy? I mean, what the actual fuck?" he turns to Josh, anger clear on his expression. "Do  _you_  want a blow-by-blow fucking walkthrough about every experiment they did on you?"

"That's enough, Mr. Keller. Sit down," Emma says sharply. "I'm  _sure_  Agent Wang was wrapping up,"

Agent Wang nods. "One of the latest experiments that is recorded in the file they kept on you is an examination of your brain, Josh," she says, sounding apologetic, "We suspect, despite your tissue healing, your memory was lost because of this."

He has nothing to say. He really doesn't. Oh, there's a lot of things he wants to say, but it's… surreal. He doesn't  _remember_  it, and if he can't remember any of this, does it even matter? He sifts through his thoughts, searching for …something. "So… why did the F.O.H want me?"

"In short," Agent Higgs says, "Biological warfare. In your omega phase state they found that certain harvested cells were capable of becoming a fast-working bacteria –one whose symptoms reflected the same combination of afflictions that killed Darren Jurney." He pauses. "It's believed that when the F.O.H operated on your brain, they were attempting to find a way to manipulate you back to what is known as the beta phase state of your mutation –when you have the ability to heal and grow."

"Okay, so…" Josh waves a hand, as if to say 'go on'.

"We're working to track down any specimen that have left the F.O.H facility, as well as what their aim for its use was."

"Okay…"

Julian sighs loudly. "You're just meant to know," he says, "You can't actually  _do_  anything with this information. You're amnesiac and not even part of the active roster assigned to this mission."

"Thanks for your assurance," Josh snaps.

"Josh, our primary concern for you is getting you settled into the present comfortably," Kitty says, "Because of your involvement in what's happened and what  _is_  happening, we'll keep you informed as events unfold."

Josh looks around the room, at the teachers who don't seem to think of him as a student anymore, at the robot lady whose name is more than a little suspicious, at the S.H.I.E.L.D agents who look more out of place than anyone, and at Julian.

And God, does he look at Julian. Julian, who was apparently  _there_  when Josh died. Julian, who doesn't have hands anymore and who looks the same otherwise but doesn't always act the same. That's the worst –when he doesn't act the way Josh remembers; when people seem more fond of Julian than is necessary; when Julian just watches Josh and doesn't say anything.

"Alright then," Josh says, standing, "If that's all… I'm going to go now. I feel a little tired."

"Of course," Emma says, and everyone in the room stands to watch Josh leave.

He's to the staircase when he hears someone running after him.

"Hey," Julian says, "Are you alright?"

Josh turns on him, patience at an end, "Why do you  _care_?" he snaps, "I'm not who any of you think I am, and if Danger back there thought that giving me the full picture was going to make me remember something –well it didn't, okay?"

"Were you hoping you would?" Julian says calmly.

"What?"

"Remember something suddenly."

He almost sounds like he's making fun of Josh, and he narrows his eyes. "Leave me alone," he says finally, and he turns back around and hurries down the stairs and away.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter's a bit shorter than usual, so apologies.

            Laura contacts the team on Thanksgiving, offering a message of happy holidays, and reports that she was following an F.O.H lead in San Francisco. “How is Josh?” she asks.

            The room is silent.

            “He doesn’t remember the last eight years,” Cessily says eventually. “It’s something about tissue damage in his brain. He’s still a teenager, in his mind.”

            “That’s unfortunate,” Laura says after a brief silence on her end. “It’s very difficult to recover memories lost through tissue damage. Do you know what tools were used to inflict the damage?”

            “Christ, Laura!” Victor cries.

            “Stainless steel,” Sooraya says. “They were using standard surgeon’s tools.”

            “And some,” Noriko mutters darkly.

            “Julian?” Laura says, “What’s your assessment of Josh?”

            Everyone turns to Julian, who’s slouched in his seat at the meeting room, arms crossed and drumming his fingers on his arm. He shrugs. “Physically healthy, mentally bewildered?” he offers. “Look, I dunno. He’s pissed because he’s out of time and expects everyone to be as immature as him.”

            “Julian…” Megan sighs.

            He shrugs again. “He just wants to be left alone,” he says. “And I think we should.” He says calmly.

            “Alright. I’ll check in again in three days,” Laura says. “I have to go, but one more thing: is Josh aware of his life after leaving the X-Men in two-thousand nine?”

            “Christ no,” Julian snaps, “And it’s gonna fucking stay like that,” he glares around the room.

            “Someone make sure Quire knows,” Santo snorts.

            “And Ruth,” Cessily says, looking thoughtful.

            “Are we done here?” Julian asks loudly.

            “Yes,” Laura says, “Good-bye,” She hangs up, and the dial tone fills the room until Santo turns the speaker off and ends the call from their end.

            “I’m out of here,” Julian says, “I’ve got business to take care of. I’ll see you all at dinner.” He stands and exits the room swiftly.

            Cessily sighs loudly. “Okay, what’s the plan on Josh?”

            “What plan?” Santo says.

            “Josh has only been leaving his room for meals for the past four days,” Sooraya explains.

            “He seemed to get along with Quentin pretty well the other day,” Victor says, “Do you think we could get Quentin to talk to him? He’s, like, one of us that Josh doesn’t remember enough to feel weird talking to.”

            “Quire’s got his charms,” Noriko says, grimacing, “But his level of immaturity might just resonate with a teenage Josh. If he’s still like how I remember, that is.”

            “I’ll tell Quentin,” Megan says, rolling her eyes.

            “I think that concludes this meeting,” Cessily says, standing.

            Everyone else clambers to their feet as well and they all dismiss themselves from the room.

 

* * *

 

            Julian knows he’s only working to keep his mind from wandering. He’s got a full week off, but he’s still making calls from his guest room, talking to lawyers, speaking to CEOs about funding charity events for the outreach program.

            It’s only once a school-wide telepathic message goes out calling everyone to dinner that Julian emerges from his room.

            The school has always made a thing of holiday meals; there’s a student committee in charge of planning out the different ones that students have called for –Halloween, first day of the Lunar New Year, suhoor and iftar (all optional, of course), et cetera.  Thanksgiving is no different, with the tables in the cafeteria pushed into several long rows and actual table settings out to mark each spot for a student to sit.

            There’s a smaller table for staff, and when Julian arrives, he briefly sees Josh sitting next to Hank, deep in conversation, before Cessily appears, grabbing him by the arm. “Help us get all the food on the table before more of the kids arrive,” she says frantically. “Everything in the kitchens, just make sure there’s no double up dishes on the table. God it?”

            “You mean ‘got it’?”

            Cessily pauses. “No. Make miracles happen,”

            Julian rolls his eyes and heads toward the kitchens, where others are already at work, preparing and organizing dishes to be carried out.

            Ruth is defiantly carving up one of the turkeys, pausing thoughtfully every once in a while before striking with great precision. Everyone has long given up on trying to stop her from doing as she pleases, and Julian goes over to where Bobby Drake is merrily dumping bread rolls from a baking tray into small baskets to be set out along each table.

            Julian is instructed to spread three baskets across each table and he sees the baskets out the kitchen, leaning against the doorway as he sets them down on the tables. The soaring food draws the attention of those who have already seated themselves and a couple of the students cheer.

            The food is set out within the next ten minutes, still steaming and filling the air with savory scents just as the bulk of the student body staying at the school for the holidays arrive in the cafeteria.

            Julian takes an open seat at the staff table as far away from Josh as he can manage, and he ends up sitting between Bobby and Piotr and across from Rogue. They seem a little surprised to see him and he shrugs in a _what can you do_ sort of way.

            Kitty stands up to make a speech –something about everyone from all around the world coming together at school and taking the opportunity to give thanks to all the good things in life. Julian isn’t really listening, fidgeting with the tablecloth in front of him.

            “Lastly, I would like to welcome Miss Emma Frost and the students joining us today from Charles Xavier’s,” Kitty is saying when he tunes back in, “And I would like to welcome back an old friend many of us have dearly missed –Josh Foley. I am so grateful for having the opportunity to get to know every one that is here today. With that –dig in and enjoy,” She grins widely and goes back to her seat on Piotr’s other side amidst enthusiastic applause.

            Julian’s gaze snaps over to Josh, and honestly, it’s not something he thinks he can _help_ , and when he does look, he’s looking for gold skin and white hair and –and he doesn’t find it.

            Josh is scrubbing a hand over his face, seemingly embarrassed by whatever Hank is telling him. Julian can’t make it out over the din of the students and the clinking of dishes and silverware.

            He turns back to his own meal, which currently consists of an empty plate, and begins helping himself to green beans. It takes him a moment to realize he’s being addressed.

            “You know,” Bobby’s saying, “It’s not actually every day that we get someone back.”

            Julian glances sideways. “Oh yeah?”

            On his other side, Piotr agrees: “You may feel that it is better to keep a distance right now, but you will find that that isn’t so,”

            “He doesn’t remember…” Julian shakes his head. “He remembers that we don’t get along. And we don’t, not right now.”

            He can practically feel the significant looks that are being passed around the table, and he ignores them because dammit, he knows he’s reading this right. He wouldn’t be alive if he couldn’t do something as simple as read _body language_. He snorts and shovels more food onto his plate.

            He’s left to eat in silence for a moment until Rogue demands his attention, asking about the Outreach Program and whether he’s been coordinating with the offices in San Francisco for their winter holiday event. It takes his mind… not _off_ anything in particular, but as he gets into discussion with Rogue, and eventually most of the X-Men sitting around him about the program, he doesn’t have time to ‘wallow in his thoughts’, as Cessily would put it.

            Julian gets roped into help bringing out the desert (several different flavored pies), and once they’re on the table, he excuses himself and slips outside for a smoke.

            And that’s where he’s huddled in the courtyard, attempting to get his lighter to ignite, when the door slides open and someone else emerges.

            Julian glances sideways at Josh, who looks surprised to see him. Figures it’s _him_.

            “I needed some air,” Josh says, “I’ll leave.”

            Julian waves a hand at him. “S’all right,” he says around the cigarette in his mouth. The lighter finally sputters out a flame for him. Inhale, exhale. Smoke billows out into the cold autumn air and Julian begins to feel calmer for it. He glances sideways again and sighs. “ _I’ll_ leave, if you want time by yourself.”

            “No,” Josh says quickly, “It’s fine.”

            Julian shrugs and they fall into silence. For all his acts of nonchalance, Julian can feel his heart thumping away, growing more excitable, and he hopes Josh can’t sense it. He might have been able to –before. “Happy Thanksgiving,” he says after a moment.

            “I remembered something, yesterday,” Josh blurts out. He looks a little jumpy, and it dawns on Julian that he’s missing the defensive attitude Josh’s always had –used to have? –around him. His eyes are wide and –and blue. Panicky. Blue. Hair blond, eyes blue. Christ.

            “Oh yeah?” Julian says finally, a forced calm in his voice.

            “It might’ve been a dream or –or a memory? Hank said it sounded like a memory. It’s not much,” Josh babbles, “I think it was San Francisco. A pier –and you were waiting for someone on a bench. I… never mind.” He’s looking away now, frowning.

            Julian stares at the little crease between Josh’s eyebrows. He puffs on his cigarette for a while, but even that doesn’t seem to ease the fluttering in his stomach. “Did I have a lunchbox?” he says.

            Josh startles. “What?”

            “A lunchbox. Did I have a lunchbox with me on the bench?”

            There’s wonder in his voice when Josh answers: “Yeah. It was Spider-man themed. How do you remember?”

            “Lucky guess,” Julian says. He remembers alright. “That’s a memory, by the way. It was something like… Five or six years ago.”

            Josh grabs Julian’s arm, which is enough of a surprise that Julian drops his cigarette ( _again,_ dammit).

            Julian flinches under Josh’s touch, unused to such prolonged contact, and he yanks his arm out of grasp. “What the hell?”

            “Why were we in California?” Josh demands. “Why were _you_ there?”

            “I lived there for a while,” Julian says stiffly. “I was on a …sabbatical. I don’t know why you went there.” He hesitates and adds, “We shared a flat for a while. Split the rent.” It was the truth.

            Josh’s eyes narrow, but he seems more confused than suspicious. Even so, his tone is biting when he asks, “Why would I voluntarily live with _you_?”

            Julian snaps back. “I’m not going to pretend to know what the hell goes through your mind,” he says icily, even though he _knows_ the frustration that’s coming through in Josh’s voice. He’s felt that sort of confused helplessness before. “Look, you’re obviously regaining some sort of memories. You can piece it together yourself.”

            Josh glowers. “Hank doesn’t think I’ll necessarily get it all back. Dammit! Why can’t someone just fill me in?”

            Julian snorts. “That’d be too easy,” he mutters, mostly to himself.

            Josh makes some sort of vague gesture with his hands and steps forward. “Come on. Quentin said he could find the memories, but you heard them the other day. They picked my brain –literally. You can just _tell_ me what happened”

            “-no,” Julian says, feeling a lump forming in his throat.

            Josh riles up in anger, brows pushed together, mouth in an angry twist. “Why not?” he says. “I don’t even care if you can’t tell me everything –I don’t even need details.”

            “You’re better off this way,” Julian says. A small voice in his head is telling him that he ought to just shut up soon.

            “You don’t get to decide that,” Josh argues. “C’mon. I’m starting to lose my freakin’ _mind_ here. I need to know where the last eight years of my life have gone.”

            “Ask someone else.” Julian says.

            “I’m asking _you_ ,”

            “Well fucking _don’t_ ,” Julian says. No, he’s yelling. He’s definitely yelling.

            Josh looks briefly shocked, and then he’s back to glaring. “What’s your problem, dude? I have a right to my own freakin’ memories, don’t I?” He takes a vindictive step forward, which is exactly what Julian does _not_ want.

            He steps back and his back touches brick wall. This isn’t fucking fair. Josh is losing _his_ mind? Julian’s a dozen words away from possibly having some sort of panic attack, which is just –which is just _not cool_. He meets Josh’s eyes and they’re a paler blue than his own and they’re just _wrong_ , but there’s… there’s something in the way they seem to flash with anger that seems familiar.

            “You know, I still don’t get why everyone seems to think you’re such a big deal. Obviously, you’re still an irrational douchebag, but from all accounts you’ve _been_ where I’ve been for at least a couple of years before I apparently died and” –Josh cuts himself off suddenly, eyes going wide with realization. “Hold on.” He says, and steps back, staring at Julian, looking him up and down with utter shock in his expression. “Were we…”

            Julian stares up at the darkened sky. He does _not_ need this right now. Or possibly ever. He can’t do this confrontation.

            Josh laughs humorlessly, “Were we _friends_?”

            And it feels something like getting a bucket of cold water dumped over his head. Julian opens and closes his mouth, floundering, because it’s _yes_ and it’s _no_ and it’s just so much _more_ than that. He swallows and finally manages a weak, “Guess you figured it out.”

            Josh stares at Julian for a long time, mouth open in an ‘O’of surprise.

            Julian just focuses on trying to _breathe_ , to make his inhales and exhales steady. He watches the air frost in front of him and he shivers a little. Laughter from inside comes through the doors muffled and distant, and the light from the building only spills past them into the courtyard for a couple of feet.

            “So you don’t mind that I was a Reaper?” Josh says finally, still puzzled.

            “ _No_ onecares,” Julian says. Then he adds sharply, “Stop staring at me like that.”

            “But you said…”

            “I know what I said,” Julian says, “But I was sixteen years old for Christ’s sake. I didn’t care after like a week, okay? But I was too much of a _shit_ to apologize for being a dick to you, so I just kept going at it.”

            “Apologize?” Josh echoes, looking well and truly lost for the first time in all the days he’s been around. He’d looked less puzzled when Megan had been showing him how to navigate her iPhone during dinner.

            “Yes,” Julian says stiffly. “I’m…sorry.”

            They stare at each other for a while, silence stretching between them.

            “Does this mean you’ll tell me what happened?” Josh says.

            “I’m going inside.” Julian says immediately, turning for the door as Josh mutters an incredulous “seriously?” from behind him.

            Julian stalks through the cafeteria where only half of the crowd is still lingering, chatting over now empty plates. He sees Santo nudge Victor as he passes by and grits his teeth, knowing this must mean Josh is trailing after him.

            He takes the stairs to avoid being stuck in the elevator with him, and attempts to outrun Josh on the way to his room. It doesn’t work, judging by the sound of footsteps behind him. Christ, he’s screwed. Julian whirls around so suddenly Josh nearly walks right into him. “What can I do to make you leave me alone?” he blurts out.

            Josh actually looks _hurt_. Fuck. “Why are you avoiding me in the first place?” he asks, clenching his fists at his sides and turning to frustrated anger. “You just said we were friends again, and if that’s true, I don’t see why you won’t at least _act_ like it.”

            And maybe it’s because Julian really isn’t used to people actually pursuing him anymore when he’s made it clear a subject has been dropped, but he can feel his own anger bubbling to the surface, like it’s been repressed all this time. Maybe it fucking has. “We’re _not_ friends,” he snaps, “You and I are _not_. _Friends_. I am friends with you in about three years, alright? When we’re both fucked up – _that’s_ when I’m fucking _friends_ with you. Alright? I’m not going to tell you a damn thing because they’re not your memories to have. I’ll tell you and you’ll tuck that knowledge away somewhere and you won’t give a damn because you haven’t lived through _any_ of what has made the rest of us who we are today. Fuck, even the kids here remember M-Day and Utopia –on the goddamn news. You don’t know _anything_.”

            “But I _want_ to!” Josh shouts back.

            “NO YOU DON’T,” Julian roars. “You’ve been dead four years! _Four_ fucking years, I’ve been visiting your grave in the garden. I _buried_ you, you _fucker_ ”

            “-You can’t seriously blame me for”

            “-I’m the reason you’re dead!” Julian says shrilly. Why doesn’t he just _get_ it? Why the hell does he insist on having anything to _do_ with Julian, especially when he doesn’t remember anything? Old rage and bitterness is flowing through Julian freely now. Everything he’s been pushing away with work and smoking and ignoring what’s happening around him –it’s all coming back to him, old wounds that can no longer hold themselves together. To his horror, his throat seems to constrict and hot tears prickle in his eyes. In his attempt to fight them back, it takes him a moment to realize that there hasn’t been a response.

            Josh is staring at him with a shaken look. “I’m not dead, Julian,” he says slowly. “I’m not.”

            Julian is torn. He wants to get far, far away –as far as possible –and he wants to reach out and _touch_ Josh, but he thinks it might burn him. He thinks he might just fucking break if he touches Josh now, when there’s so much blasted _concern_ in his eyes that are too goddamn blue. He’ll crumple and possibly never get up again.

            Julian feels himself shaking his head. He can’t do this. He thinks if he runs now, he might get out of this. Josh will give up if he runs now, and he’ll go back to Manhattan or possibly transfer to San Francisco and they’ll probably never really talk again.

            Before he really has the chance to turn away, though, Josh reaches out and takes one of his hands, and Julian can’t feel it except for a faint tug against the telekinetic hold he has on the gauntlet, but he shudders anyway, and completely fails to pull away.

            “You didn’t kill me,” Josh says softly, earnestly. “And I think I would care… if you told me”

            -Julian does step away then, looking away. “Ask Cessily or Megan.” He mutters. And then he does turn away and his footsteps seem loud and heavy as he walks away.

 

* * *

 

 _Six Years Earlier, San Francisco_ …

 

            _Julian stumbles into the apartment, bone tired and moody and smelling like grease and coffee from the diner, and he’s surprised to find Elixir standing in the kitchen making something that smells_ really _good._

_“Hey,” he says from the doorway. “You’re here.”_

_Elixir glances over his shoulder. “Oh. Yeah. It’s Sunday, remember? I don’t work.”_

_Julian goes over and peers down at what Elixir has made. It’s stir fry –or something. “You’re usually out by now, though…” he says._

_Elixir nudges him back and turns off the stove. “It’s nearly nine and I actually just got in like two hours ago.” He says. “Get a plate and stop drooling, dude,” he adds, smirking._

_They eat on the floor by Elixir’s bed because despite all other home improvements, they still don’t have a table._

_Elixir’s wearing an overlarge gray t-shirt and sweats, looking more relaxed than Julian can remember ever seeing him. For his part, Julian is still wearing his striped uniform shirt with his nametag pinned over the left breast pocket._

_“This is good,” Julian comments into the silence. “Where did you learn to cook?”_

_Elixir chews slowly. “Home Ec,”he says with a shrug. “I can sew and stuff, too,”_

_“That’s helpful I guess,” Julian says lamely._

_“I’m surprised you haven’t died from eating junk food,” Elixir says._

_Julian frowns, although it’s rather ineffective considering he’s just stuffed his mouth with a forkful of various vegetables and noodles. He chews quickly and swallows so he can protest; “I eat, like, salad. Sometimes,”_

_Elixir shakes his head in mock disappointment, which earns him a telekinetic cuff over the head. “Hey!” he complains._

_Julian sticks out his tongue and sees the mischievous look on Elixir’s face in time to put aside his plate before Elixir launches himself across the space between them. He’s still got enough memory of X-Men training to roll back with the attack and pin Elixir on the ground, a knee pressed against his sternum and gauntlets holding down Elixir’s arms by the wrists. He grins down at Elixir smugly._

_Elixir is laughing, which makes Julian think he might have planned this all along, and he says, “Give up?”_

_Elixir nods, still snorting with laughter, “Uncle, uncle,” he says. “Well it looks like you haven’t gone completely soft,”_

_Julian rolls his eyes and then rolls them again for good measure. “As if,” he says, and makes a mental commitment to check out cheap gyms in the area, especially if he suspects Elixir might take to surprise attacks, which he does._

_Elixir sighs loudly, “Um, you can get off now,” he reminds Julian, who blinks and scrambles back quickly._

_Elixir sits up with an exaggerated groan and looks around. “I should turn in,” he says, “I’ve got to get up early tomorrow.”_

_“You don’t work until seven,”_

_“Ah, but I have appointments all day,” Elixir says breezily._

_“Right,” Julian snorts. “Where do you work anyway?” He vividly recalls glittery white hair._

_“A nightclub,” Elixir shrugs. “It’s very… out there. I wait tables, but there’s a show most nights and… glitter,” He sees Julian’s growing grin and scowls, “Hey, it pays, okay? Not everyone can balance, like, six fucking jobs. And how’s that going, by the way? You always look like something the cat dragged in.”_

_“We don’t have a cat,” Julian says._

_“Maybe we should get one,”_

_Julian snorts so deeply it hurts. “It’d die in a week.”_

_“Would not,” Elixir insists._

_“Are we seriously talking about getting a cat?”_

_“Christ, I dunno. I’m going to get ready for bed,” Elixir stands and gathers their dishes._

_“Leave ‘em in the sink,” Julian calls after him. “I’ll do it.”_

_There’s no reply, but he Elixir does as he says and then pads over to the bathroom, where Julian hears water running. His eyes are beginning to droop shut by the time Elixir emerges and he’s reluctant to get up, but eventually drags himself to his feet at Elixir’s insistence and goes off to wash up for bed._

_He passes Elixir’s mattress on the way to his room, and he appears to be asleep under a bundle of blankets, which makes it a surprise when he turns off the lights of the main room and hears a soft, “’Night, Keller,”_

_He stands there in the dark for a moment, caught off guard by the sentiment. He hasn’t been bid a goodnight in some time. “Goodnight,” he whispers finally, and he shuffles off to his room and doesn’t bother closing the door behind him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright so we've got some confrontation? I dunno. Also, I had been adding scenes from the past into the ends of chapters of "Stagnation" so I figured I'd just make those a mostly regular thing. The scene in this chapter can be considered a missing scene from chapter three of "Going, Going, Gone".  
> Review? I'd love to hear what any of you think/want to happen/be examined.  
> Cheers!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a bit longer than usual, but it's mostly (really) just filler.

Outside of a nondescript building tucked away in the lower side district of Chicago, a young woman hurries through a side alley, short-cutting into her place of employment with five minutes to the start of her shift. A man exits the building as she arrives at the doors and they collide.

"Watch it," the woman complains, clutching one of her abdominal arms in pain. She eyes him briefly, trying to figure out what he's poked her with before she decides to just hurry on to work. She doesn't have the time to waste.

Despite her haste, the side stairs up to the woman's place of work seem longer than usual. She's panting by the time she reaches the top, and her head spins. "Fucking perfect," she groans, using one of her upper arms to clutch her head.

She staggers down a dimly lit hall and arrives at a thick metal door. A camera in the corner over it takes notice of her and the door unlocks for her.

By now, the woman can barely stand up straight and she ducks into the room –a night club –doubled over and clutching her stomach and head with all hands available. The arm she'd gotten poked stings something fierce and when she glances down, she is puzzled to find a red and yellow spot blossoming over her skin there. And then she sees the bruising spots and boils and raw, bleeding patches that are dotting her skin all up and down all four arms.

The woman rushes to the employee dressing room of the club, where off-shift dancers gathered inside greet her with horrified yelps.

"Holy shit, Ali," says a woman with pastel pinks skin and two horns protruding from her forehead. "You should've just called in sick!"

"...Wasn't …" Ali collapses to her knees and clutches her stomach before retching up a mouthful crimson blood. She falls on her back, moaning weakly as all other occupants of the room screech and run for telephones and employers and anything they think might help. "There was a man…" she whispers through gritted teeth and the worst migraine she's ever felt. She can feel it in her  _ears_  and in her throat. She rolls over and vomits again –more blood. Her eyelids droop close, which is just as well because she's utterly exhausted, and even breathing seems hard…

People are leaning over her with horrified whispers: "God, what happened to her…"

"Mollie, don't touch her—"

"I'm gonna be sick—"

"We need to take her downstairs for when the ambulance gets here."

"You called an  _ambulance_?"

"What were we supposed to do, Ivan?"

"You get her  _out_  of here!"

The voices are fading fast, a high pitched ringing filling Ali's ears and the last thing she hears is a quiet: "She said she wasn't sick. She said there was a man."

* * *

" _Breaking news: a mysterious and deadly contagion has been discovered in Chicago, Illinois, provoking rumors of a death toll in the low_ twenties _. Plus –S.H.I.E.L.D and the C.D.C address rumors of conspiracy concerning the origins of this illness. All this and more –coming up."_

* * *

"This is a disaster," Victor concludes in the staff room following the speech of a C.D.C representative. "This is worse than the Legacy Virus. It's AIDS for  _mutants_."

"Mutants aren't the only people who can catch it," Cessily reminds him.

He waves a dismissive hand. "I know, But it's the equivalent of the AIDS scare. Except mutants are the queer ones."

"But you're already gay," Santo says.

"Gee, you think?"

"Does that mean you're two times likely to get it or you're immune?" Santo says, equally sarcastic.

"Boys," Megan chides, "Quiet. S.H.I.E.L.D's on now."

The group gathered around the T.V quiets down and watches as a S.H.I.E.L.D spokesperson takes the podium of the press conference. She takes a moment to speak, allowing the press to fill the silence with clicks of camera shutters and paper rustling. When she speaks, she stares around the room sternly. "Concerning the reports of the unknown disease that has arisen in the Chicago area this week, we have confirmed that it is  _not_  a variant of HX-N1, also known as Mutant Plague," she says, "Secondly, S.H.I.E.L.D would like to offer our condolences to the friends and families of the two confirmed victims of the illness, Alison Kumpar and Mollie Johnson. As the C.D.C has previously noted, the virus is spread through ingestion of bodily fluids and is  _not_  airborne. We urge the public to therefore remain calm, as efforts have been successfully made to quarantine effected regions of the Chicago area. It remains unknown as to how Alison Kumpar contracted the disease, but investigation are being conducted toward the possibility of her being infected on her way to work on the evening of her death by an unknown assailant of an anti-mutant hate group. That is all we can tell you with full confidence as of now. Thank you –there will be no questions."

The press room erupts with questions as the spokeswoman makes her way off stage and Cessily sighs loudly, also disappointed.

"It's Elixir's disease,"

Everyone turns to see Laura standing in the doorway, a grim expression on her face. "S.H.I.E.L.D knows this. We have been attempting to learn all we can from Delilah, but it appears that her storage of the F.O.H security data has been rapidly deteriorating since she awoke. She does not know where all samples of the disease has been sent, but we have six locations globally. It's a start."

The room is silent in shock.

"What the fuck, X?" Santo says eventually.

"Elixir's Disease?" Quentin says from where he's seated sideways across a loveseat. "Is that what we're calling it? I'll have to add that in my blog…"

"Don't you dare," Cessily says sharply.

"What about the Elixir End? Elixir Effect?"

"You all have a terrible preoccupation with alliterations," Cessily mutters.

"Would you say it's an alliteration affliction?" Quentin smirks, earning a truly withering glare.

Laura crosses the room from the doorway, "Is Josh aware that this virus is connected to him?"

"The last time he was out of his room was to say goodbye to Sooraya and Noriko when they went back to San Francisco," Victor says, shaking his head, "And that was only because Hisako got Ruth to say something creepy to him that made him come down to the hangar."

Laura frowns. "Has he made any indication of his memories returning?"

"Not that we know of."

"Is Julian here?"

"Went back to New Mutant Town on Monday," Cessily says.

A brief look of irritation passes over Laura's face. "I see. Please keep Josh from discovering his connection to the disease as of now. I'm going to talk to Logan."

* * *

The public stays calm for about three seconds, and then the Internet takes over and mass hysteria is created through various social networks, with netizens making no real distinction between fact and fiction and perpetuating all rumors, business as usual.

The C.D.C manages to churn out a name for the disease before the conspirators, but Malignant X-Gene Infection doesn't seem to have as much of a ring as the X-Virus does, and it's the latter name that sticks when new reports come in of an outbreak in the San Franciscan Mutant District. There's a panic, and outrage from all sorts of groups, but when the proverbial smoke clears after two weeks, five mutants and two baseline humans are dead.

For their part, the X-Men and S.H.I.E.L.D do a top notch job of keeping anyone from realizing that the X-Virus mirrors the symptoms of Darren Jurney's death four year prior to the Chicago outbreak, and maybe it's because of the urgency of dealing with the media and finding the F.O.H, but in the end, nobody realizes Josh is gone until Sofia calls from Queens to give them a message from him that says he's been by to visit, that he's going on to Chicago to visit his brother, and that he's gotten the go ahead from S.H.I.E.L.D Medical to postpone an upcoming appointment with Dr. McCoy.

Laura is quiet for a long time when an informal meeting is called to dispense this revelation, and then she lets out a sigh –an action she doesn't perform frequently. "History has a habit of repeating itself," she says eventually, tone equal parts resigned and wry. Then she stands, and leaves the room, a sort of regretful air about her.

Cesilly puts her face in her hands. "Aw man, oh man. We fucked it up, didn't we?"

"But he's coming back," Santo points out, "Right?"

* * *

Josh doesn't remember Chicago. He gets off at the train station and checks his map of the city and calling a cab here is only a little bit more difficult than getting one in Queens. That is, he has to walk around a bit and find the right sort of street to find one.

He tells the driver the address Joey'd given him over the phone. It'd been an offbeat conversation –too many expectant pauses, and Joey cried, because most people weren't so blasé about people coming back to life, and Josh had been lost, because the last time he remembered talking to Joey had been through a brief email message weeks earlier, congratulating Joey for graduating Uni and apologizing that he'd missed the ceremony.

Josh is more than a little nervous about going to see Henry, because he doesn't know how his older brother will react, and they've never been on good terms since Josh manifested his powers. But Joey'd said Henry had a family now, and he had been sorry when Josh died, even if he didn't manage to get to the funeral.

The taxi takes Josh into the suburbs just beyond Chicago and stops in front of a glaringly average looking beige house. There's an autumn wreath on the front door and Josh stares at it in favor of knocking. He can hear muffled voices inside –children yelling, a woman calling something…

Josh reaches out and rings the doorbell and hears it echo through the house. He steps back a little and crosses his arms tightly.

The door opens and a petite, brunette woman with red-framed glasses opens the door. "Hello?" she says, puzzled.

Josh shifts from foot to foot, self-conscious. "Hi, uh, I'm here to see Henry?"

"Can I ask what this is for?" she asks. She seems nice enough –colorful. Probably laughs a lot, and she's smiling at him politely. He wonders if she's the Mrs. Henry Foley.

"I'm, uh, can you tell him his brother is here to see him?" Josh says nervously. "He's not expecting me, but…"

The woman's expression brightens. "Of course! Come in, I'll get him." She ushers Josh into the house, and he's left standing awkwardly in a warmly lit front hall on a beautiful rug that is definitely worth more than Josh would willingly spend on a floor mat.

He can hear children yelling somewhere upstairs, and then footsteps approaching;

"Well, Joey, this certainly is a sur…" Henry emerges from a doorway at the end of the hall and falters midsentence, staring at Josh in surprise. He's definitely older than Josh remembers. He's, what, thirty-five? And his blond hair is combed back and parted neatly and he's wearing a dress pants and a button-down tucked in but with the sleeves rolled up like he's just gotten in for the evening. He looks kind of like a younger version of their father.

"Hey. Henry." Josh says, throat suddenly dry.

Henry blinks, shocked. "You…"

"Yeah, uh, turns out I didn't die. Or I –uh, I came back –well, I was kidnapped by this group that wanted to do experiments and they cut open my head so I can't… It's really me, I swear." He insists, realizing that he's beginning to ramble and Henry is turning white in the face.

"You look –normal." Henry says eventually. "I mean, like before."

Josh shrugs uncomfortably, because he hadn't bothered mentioning to anyone just how much it bothers himself to see himself ' _fixed_ ', and why start now? "Yeah. Some sort of psychological side effect, apparently."

"That's. That's, wow. You're alive." Henry says finally, "You're alive. No one –no one said –how long have you-? Oh my God." He covers his mouth with his hands.

Somewhere in the back of Josh's mind, he notes that this is probably a more standard reaction to his supposed (he's still not completely sure this isn't a bad dream) resurrection.

"Does Joey know?" he asks.

Josh nods. "He gave me this address. I should've called ahead of time…"

"I probably would've hung up on you," Henry says, giving a small laugh. "Josh, I've been… I've been a dick to you, actually."

"Yeah?" There's still several feel between them. Josh is standing near the front door while Henry stands by the other end of the hall. They watch each other, Henry staring like he still can't believe his eyes.

Henry nods. "About mutants, I... I know better now. I was scared. And I cut you off because of it."

"To be fair," Josh says after a while, "I didn't try very hard to stay in touch."

"You're my baby brother.  _I_  should've tried harder." Henry insists. "You can't imagine how guilty I felt when I heard you'd died –on the  _news_." Suddenly, his expression twists, like he's struggling to not...

_Frick._

"It's okay, though," Josh says quickly, "I'm alive, I'm fine,"

"Are you?" Henry says thickly.

Josh stares at him and doesn't reply, because the answer is suddenly apparent to him, and it's a freakin' problem, is what it is. No, he's  _not_  fine, dammit. Instead of saying anything, Josh takes a couple of uncertain steps forward and hugs Henry –rather awkwardly, because he can't remember ever hugging his brother before.

Henry holds onto him tightly, shaking, and they're silent.

"Daddy?"

Josh springs away and looks around. His eyes fall on a little girl standing behind Henry, an even smaller little boy holding onto her hand. The boy can't be more than two or three years old, and he's got blond hair and blue eyes –a typical Foley. The girl, on the other hand, is a particularly violent shade of purple, with white hair in little pigtails, and bright, yellow eyes.

He looks back up to Henry, "She's…"

"Lily, this is your Uncle Josh. Josh, Lily. She's, ah, an 'early manifested' mutant. The doctor says she might gain other abilities when she hits puberty, but it's just her appearance for now."

Lily smiles and flicks a little forked tongue out at Josh. "Are you my uncle-uncle or a not-uncle uncle?" she asks.

"Um, I'm your dad's brother. So, uncle-uncle."

"Josh is my younger brother. Just like Howard."

Lily giggles, looking from the boy at her side and then up to Josh, "They got the same hair," she says, "Howie, he looks like you!"

Howie blinks up at Josh.

"Um."

"Lily, where did Miss Kristen go? Can you take Howie to go find her? Say Daddy wants her to run a bath for you. Then dinner and sleep, okay?"

Lily nods and tugs Howie away.

"So that lady wasn't your wife?" Josh wonders.

"Oh, uh, no. She's the, uh, nanny." Henry says, turning back to Josh. "Lena and I divorced. We didn't see eye to eye on some things. The children. Lily." He shrugs, but he's tense. "Are you staying somewhere? I'll get the guest room set up for you."

"Thanks," Josh trails after Henry into the rest of the house.

The front hall opens into a large kitchen with a table and a view into a living room with a large flat screen and two couches. The stove is on in the kitchen, something boiling in a silver pot, and Henry goes over to check on it for a moment. "D'you want anything to drink?"

"Water's fine."

Henry goes to the cupboard to get a mug. "So, uh, your friends must've missed you…"

Josh sighs loudly, "It's so weird, to be honest. The last thing I remember is being sixteen."

Henry turns, eyebrows raised, "Nothing?"

"Like I said. Apparently I've got tissue scarring. In my brain." Josh shakes his head, "I've got friends I don't even remember meeting, and the ones I do remember… they're older, you know?" He bites his lip and then continues, nodding thanks when Henry passes him his water. "There's one guy…  _I_  still remember hating him, but we were  _friends_ , and I don't even remember it. And he's mad at me for not remembering anything, I mean, does that even make any sense? How's it my fault I'm not some version of me that everyone wants me to be?"

Henry frowns, "But none of your other …friends… are angry?"

"They're just kind of tiptoeing around me," Josh says. "It's worse, in a way. Sometimes I  _want_  to be able to be like how everyone remembers me, and then sometimes I  _don't_  because it's just not who I think I  _am_ , but isn't it the other way around? How I am right  _now_  isn't really who I am. God, I sound like a broken record these days. I just… I think if I knew what happened, I'd feel something. It's the not knowing that's terrible."

Henry huffs a sigh, "Can't help you there, bud," he says finally. "There must be  _someone_ who wants to help you remember, right?"

"Oh, they want me to remember," Josh says darkly, "They just don't want to help me with it." He shakes his head. "I'm just dumping my problems on you, huh? Let's talk about something else. How old are the kids?"

Henry smiles. "Lily's almost seven and Howard just turned three."

"Are you going to send Lily to Xav –to Jean Grey's? I think it starts at the eighth grade…"

"She'll have that option," Henry says, "I'm focusing on elementary school right now. She's really smart."

"I could tell," Josh says, smiling a little also. He can't remember ever seeing Henry like this, like he is when he's talking about his kids, calm and fond.

Henry goes back over to the stove, turns it off and then checks something in the oven. "Dinner's gonna be ready soon."

"Cool."

"Hey Josh?" Henry says, "You know, I'm glad you came here, right?"

"Yeah," and he grins then, and Henry smiles back.

* * *

_The Battle of San Francisco coverage is mostly chopper shots of bright flashes on the ground, and expert and expert being called in to talk about the dome that's gone over San Francisco._

_Josh takes one look at the news and says, "I have to go," even though nobody's around to hear him. He doesn't know how he could possibly help, but most of the super-powered groups in the world have congregated either in or outside of San Francisco, and the last of the clean-up work on Genosha will be over soon._

_And so Josh goes to the docks with a backpack and takes a ship to Mozambique and charges his flight back to the U.S to the X-Corp credit card he's been saving in some vague concept of a special occasion._

_By the time he lands at LaGuardia, the battle is over and the aftermath is blowing up all the airwaves. The Golden Gate has been destroy. San Francisco is on fire. New mutants are being born._

_On his connecting flight to San Jose, it seems like everyone on the flight is staring at him. The old man sitting next to Josh says, "Do you have friends there?"_

_Josh swallows, nods, "I should've been there."_

_"They say a couple of those X-Men characters got killed. Do you know the X-Men?"_

_Josh smiles weakly, throat constricting, "Who doesn't? Excuse me," he stands and makes his way into the aisle and stumbles to the lavatory._

_Inside, it's cramped and brightly lit. It smells like soap and wet paper towel and Josh leans over the sink, gasping for air. The small bathroom seems to grow all the closer around him, suffocating him._

X-Men killed.

 _He probably knows them, whoever died, he'd have at least heard their name or codename in passing –it could be one of his_ friends _, could be one of his old classmates who'd died. And Josh hadn't been there, God. He'll get there and all he'll be in time for will be the burials of more of his friends._

 _It isn't fair –isn't_ right _. Haven't they paid_ enough _for being mutants? It isn't their fault and they certainly can't help it. They are just_ teenagers _._

_Josh manages to steady his breath and he looks up into the mirror. He can never actually see his eyes that well these days, but they are wide and white and scared._

* * *

_They're safe. It wasn't one of his classmates, but Mr. Wagner and fucking_ Teleford _and a woman named Ariel and a man named Cable. Dr. Rao is quick to hang up the telephone, but not before she urges him to come to Utopia and help with the injured. Xi'an's lost a leg. Keller's lost his hands –both of them. Rao tells him there's nothing he can do about that, but they've got broken bones and fractures and burns that they could use help with._

_Josh leans against the walls around the payphone long after he runs out of time, and he works on steadying his breathing. His legs feel weak with relief and he nearly stumbles when he steps away from the phone. It's about four A.M in the morning and San Jose in early morning has a light, cool breeze and about three cars out on the street. There's a sort of tranquility in the emptiness of the city in morning, and Josh doesn't make a move in any direction –not back to the airport to get on a flight to Genosha, but not on a bus to San Francisco, either._

_Josh stands in the middle of the sidewalk, staring out across nothing at all, surrounded by no one, utterly alone in the world._

* * *

_Josh almost goes to Utopia four times. Every time, he stops before getting to the docks. He can see the island from where he is –can see it scorched and still smoking. The city by the docks has gone through the worst damage. Buildings are leveled, streets turned to layers of rubble._

_Josh keeps trying to imagine what he'd_ do _on Utopia. Get put up with a room, probably. Maybe heal a few bruises? Then what? On Genosha, he'd helped with clearing up rubble and burying corpses, and he'd felt more useful doing that since he'd healed Laura of the Legacy Virus._

_On the fourth time Josh almost goes to Utopia, a woman wearing an orange jersey approaches him with a clipboard. "X-Men send you over?"_

_He nods numbly._

_"Can you help with moving some of the heavier things?" she asks, pencil poised on her clipboard._

_"I'm a Healer." he says._

_The woman is momentarily startled, but then she grins. "Oh, thank God. The hospitals are swamped. We've got a first aid tent about a block down. There's a line –well, you'll see it. Tell 'em Maureen sent you over, okay? Thank God." She hurries on and Josh looks in the direction she pointed out._

_The first aid tent is being run by one man with a medical degree, three medical students from Stanford, and veterinarian nurse. The entire operation would be a huge liability scandal waiting to happen, were it not for the utter indifference their patients had._

_Josh is accepted to the folds happily and he's put to work with healing cuts and bruises after they've been disinfected. It saves on the already low supply of bandages, and the patients are more than happy to be sent away, healthy as can be._

_The chaos of the tent is a welcome distraction as well. Josh is forced to concentrate on what he knows about the human body and healing, and he spends nearly two hours straight at the tent before he realizes that he's starting to tire._

_One of the med students takes over Josh's position and he goes behind the tent to where volunteers have set up an area with drinks and food, supplied by a local restaurant._

_"You're not just healing the injuries, are you?"_

_He turns and finds one of the nurse standing next to him, two cups of water in her hands. She offers one to him and he takes it, drinking it down quickly. "What do you mean?" he says then._

_"I mean, some of the people coming to us? Clearly afflicted with something besides an injury from the battle. Like the old man with the limp –man, he looked so surprised when he stood up to leave –you didn't notice, did you?"_

_Josh stares at her, trying to recall an elderly man with a limp. He can't. Every face, every wound –it's been a blur, just one giant mass of pain and misery, as far as he's concerned. He shrugs and thinks a little harder. He's found people don't like it when he doesn't notice others. Something about it being self-centered. "There was one girl with stage three syphilis?" he offers, "I remember her." Had she noticed when he healed that? He can't remember. He decides not to add that part._

_The nurse blinks, surprised, and then laughs. "You X-Men are somethin' else, you know that?"_

_He laughs a little self-consciously. "Sorry."_

_She just shakes her head._

* * *

_Somewhere along the way, Josh doesn't make it back to anywhere. He calls Alani from a disposable cell phone he buys and asks if she's heard anything from the X-Men. She says she's still in New York, and is planning to fly out to San Francisco soon to help with rebuilding the city and for the funerals. She says she'll see him if he flies back to the States for the funerals, but don't call again. He doesn't mention he's already back._

_Josh doesn't go to the funerals._

_He gets a call, after, from a number he doesn't recognized._

_"Hello?"_

_"Why didn't you come?"_

_It's Laura. He doesn't even care to know how she found the number of his disposable cell. "I couldn't."_

_"I caught your scent at the docks last week."_

_"I know, I -but I just couldn't do it. I can't explain…"_

_There's silence. "I understand."_

_"Do you?"_

_She sounds amused: "Not really. Are you going to be okay?"_

_"I think so."_

_"Do you have shelter?"_

_It's such an odd way to put it, but Josh knows why she's asking. It's not "do you have somewhere to stay?" or "Are you safe?" Just, a question of whether he has something as basic as shelter._

_"Yeah," he says._

_"Don't… be a stranger," she says._

_"Okay,"_

_She hangs up._

* * *

_He's sitting at a bar at Sacramento, even though he's only just turned nineteen a couple of weeks ago. Apparently his fake I.D from New York is good enough to get him a drink across the country. It's something disgusting, anyways, not really worth the seven bucks he paid for it._

_Someone sits down to his left, a woman who's gotta be at least forty, with She smiles at him and he's ready to ignore her when she says, "So you must be Kevin. I have to say, you could have mentioned the_ skin _."_

_Josh frowns, blinking in confusion._

_She puts a hand on his arm, "Don't worry, I like it. I've never been with one of_ you _."_

_He looks down at her hand, where she's begun stroking his skin much like one would pet a cat or a dog. "Look"_

_"-I told my chauffeur to wait around the block, like you said, and I brought the" –she lowers her voice –"cash. Half upfront, like you said?"_

_A part of Josh's mind tells him he should probably clear up the misunderstanding at this point. Another part of him says,_ why not _? And he smiles. "That's right," he says. She makes a move for her purse and he says, "Oh, not here. In the car," And he slings an arm over her shoulder as they leave._

_He sees a man hurry past and into the bar, hair dyed white and wearing a dark jacket similar to Josh's. He keeps on walking. He's got three hundred bucks and a place to stay by the end of the night._

* * *

_Prostitution, Josh finds, isn't actually as easy as being mistaken for a high-end escort and being handed three hundred dollars for losing his virginity. He's fairly sure he only managed to figure out the deed because of the totally awkward class with Hank over the sexual reproductive organs and genitals. Josh will have to remember to thank Hank someday for feeling it necessary to include a day of medical tutoring that covered the possible injuries sustained during sex and how to heal them._

_Josh doesn't turn to prostitution, as it were, for a while, but he does conclude that sleeping with someone is the best way to find a place to sleep every night, and he endeavors to pick a girl up every night._

_He's talking to a girl named Shiloh one night and they've been having a good enough time. He's about to ask her if she wants to leave (and then he'll excuse himself out of hosting with a fake visiting sister and niece) when Shiloh leans in and says, "Don't look now, but there's a guy over by the bar who's been checking you out for, like, twenty minutes straight."_

_Josh looks anyway, just in time to see a dark-haired guy in red flannel looking away. He frowns, "The guy with the beard?"_

_Shiloh rolls her eyes. "More like scruff, but yeah. You should talk to him,"_

_Josh gapes at her, "What?"_

_She's staring at her phone, though. "My girlfriend like_ just _texted me. I have to go."_

_"I'm not gay." Josh says._

_Shiloh does look up, then, "Oh. I just meant, if you're, like, interested. He's cute, though, isn't he? If you go for that kind of thing, I mean. It's been great talking to you." And she leans over, pecking him on the cheek. She's gone in a flourish of long blonde hair, and Josh is left standing at the table, wondering how he actually missed the signs._

_He glances back again and catches the guy staring at him._

_The guy smiles a little and waves and Josh turns back around quickly. He's not –what the actual_ fuck _. He doesn't like guys. That's never been a question. They don't have any of what makes girls appeal to him. They're all angles and hard lines and they don't smell sweet like girls and their skin wouldn't be smooth and soft… They'd be… they'd…_

_Josh finds himself trying to imagine it. Kissing a guy. Kissing the guy across the bar. He'd probably smell like the smoke and alcohol of the bar but he'd smell like cologne, too. Nothing fruity, but something fresh. Like aftershave. And he'd be taller than Josh and be able to press him up against a wall and keep him there and that wouldn't be so bad, would it?_

_Josh shakes his head. No. This is_ not _happening right fucking now. It's stupid. He's just thinking about it because Shiloh brought it up. He's never thought about it before. He's known gay guys before, and he's never been into any of them. Vic's too small, too slender, and he watches those terrible reality shows on MTV just so he can yell at the T.V. And Mr. Beaubier is… well, he's Mr. Beaubier. And that would just be weird._

_Nope, Josh doesn't like—_

_"Hi,"_

_Josh looks up and curses himself for not noticing the other guy approaching. Up close, Josh can see that he has hazel eyes and a silver ring through his bottom lip, and funny as it sounds, Josh has never known anyone with a lip ring. He wonders what it would feel like to kiss someone with one. If he kisses this guy, he'll feel hair against his skin and metal against his lips, but it'll be warm and wet like any other kiss besides that._

_And so Josh thinks,_ fuck it, why not?  _And that'll just have to be his philosophy, if it's brought him this far. He smiles. "Hey."_

* * *

_-standing right in front of him, wearing a green visor and apron. Keller looks up and surprise flickers across his expression, quickly followed by irritation. He grinds his teeth together and then offers Josh his fakest smile. "What can I get for you?"_

_And Josh just stares, because weeks and weeks of moving from bed to bed, from person to person –it's like it's all just been a hazy sex and money filled blur. And he stares at Julian, who he can't have seen since Genosha almost two years ago. He registers the metal gauntlets floating away from Julian's arms, and feels pang of guilt he'd felt when he'd called Dr. Rao from the payphone after the Bastion fiasco and she'd told him about the injuries. He blinks._

_"Grande caramel Frappucino," he says eventually._

_"Four seventy-eight." Keller says through his teeth._

_Josh has never been so inexplicably delighted to see someone who clearly doesn't want to see him._

* * *

_A knock on the door pulls Josh from his thoughts and he crosses the cramped apartment to open the door. He pauses, not recognizing the signature on the other side, but there's no peek hole on the door, so Josh slowly opens the door._

_There's a middle-aged man standing there, wearing several cozy layers of winter gear._

_"What do you want?" Josh says shortly, keeping the door mostly closed._

_The man holds up a badge. "Detective Olsen, Chicago PD. Does Julian live here? I'd like to ask him a couple of questions."_

_Josh tilts his head to the side. "He's working right now," he says carefully._

_"Can I ask who you are?"_

_"Yes,"_

_Olsen is unamused. "Who are you?"_

_"Josh,"_

_"And you live here?"_

_"Yup,"_

_Olsen sighs, "And Julian also lives here?"_

_"Yeah," Josh leans against the doorway and cross his arms, patiently awaiting the next question to answer monosyllabically._

_"What is the nature of your relationship with mister, ah-?"_

_"Julian."_

_"Last name?"_

_"He's got one, I'm sure," Josh says vaguely. He can tell Olsen is just waiting for the second he can file that name away and attach it to a first name in some database search. And Julian's definitely going to be in that database, which will get the police digging into X-Men business and the X-Men digging…back. Josh doesn't really need digging of any sort right now._

_"And your relationship to Julian, then? Familial, friendly, or romantic?"_

_Josh swallows hard, oddly thrown by the question. He shakes his head, trying to clear the sudden stream of very inappropriate Julian-related thoughts from his head. "Friendly. We're roommates."_

_"Has Julian mentioned anything about a death that occurred near his place of employment yesterday?"_

_"No?"_

_"Did you know that there was a murder this morning about two blocks away?"_

_Josh shrugs. "Honestly, I have no clue what exists two blocks away in any direction," he says. "I got here in the dark. What's Julian got to do with the guy who died?"_

_"It's just standard questioning of…"_

_"Uh, yeah, you don't need to try to bullshit me. I do that for a living." Josh rolls his eyes._

_Olsen opens his mouth to ask his next question—_

* * *

_Josh takes the cash off the night stand and pockets it._

_The client is still doing up her blouse, but she's watching him in that still-hungry post-sex way and he knows she's going to try to make small talk soon._

_"So you're not from around here, are you?" the client says. "You were born in New England, weren't you?"_

_Josh raises his eyebrows._

_"I'm a linguist. It's a hobby. Am I right?" the woman grins and waggles her eyebrows._

_"Queens, born and raised," Josh confirms, "Didn't realize I had any sort of accent."_

_"It's pretty standard New England. Comes and goes."_

_"That's a neat trick," Josh says absently, counting the wad of bills in his hand._

_"This is a personal question, but"_

_-Josh smiles tightly, "Sweetheart, your time is up and I've got appointments to keep."_

* * *

_"You're a dirty whore and"_

_"-Session's over, mister," Josh cuts in flatly. "You wanna keep talking, you're gonna have to pay for longer." He pulls on his sweaters. "That's gonna be one-thirty. Cough up."_

_The john looks briefly shocked, but eventually moves to grab his wallet. "You're something else, you know that? Normally I wouldn't put up with this kind of"_

_"-Save it for next time, babe," Josh says, throwing in a smirk. He holds out his hand, and the exchange of cash is quick, and then Josh is out of there, walking quickly from the motel. He's always a little on edge after these kind of clients. Josh has seen more than his fair share of middle-aged guys into power play. It's something about the emasculation they feel in their everyday lives or something –Josh never really listened during Rogue's psychology class. Point is, it's not Josh's favorite thing in the world, being called names._

* * *

_"Dude. Don't tell me you're still sleeping,"_

_Josh pulls the pulls the blankets around him even more tightly as he hears Julian approach the bed and then kneel down so that they're eye level._

_Julian stares at him with searching blue eyes. "Blink if you can hear me," he says softly._

_Josh has made a huge miscalculation, coming here. He turns away._

_"What the fuck, man? Have you been lying here all day? What about work?"_

_Josh thinks of the last time. California. Julian said he didn't care –but people always mind, anyway. And Julian works so hard, has so many jobs, and Josh just fucks people for money. He's –he couldn't –he can't confirm whatever suspicions Julian might have about his income. It wouldn't be… "Not today," Josh says finally, voice small._

* * *

_"Do you like me?" Julian says._

_"What?" That's not an answer. They both know what the answer is. Josh can't keep his hands to his goddamn self when he's half asleep._

_"I was thinking about yesterday. Do you_ like _me, Josh?" Julian says directly, eyes possibly piercing Josh's_ soul _with their intensity._

 _Fuck it. "Yes. I like you like_ that _."_

 _And maybe they haven't been on the same page, because Julian looks utterly baffled. "Um,_ why _?" he says, like he doesn't very well know. Like he hasn't just_ been  _there for Josh, giving him chance after chance. Like he isn't equal parts sarcasm and moodiness and reluctant but undeniable compassion._

_Josh sighs. Cat's out of the bag. Can't turn back now. "I dunno," he says, "You're hot? Don't look at me like that, you used to know it was true, too. And you're not a total dick. You treat me like I'm normal."_

_Julian rolls his eyes immediately, "You are normal," he says dismissively, proving Josh's point, which for some reason actually bothers him._

_"Fine," Josh says, "Correction: you don't look at me like I'm whatever you're paying for_ _or_ _like you'll fucking break my mind if you ask me too many questions about my goddamn feelings," And that's why Julian is fucking fantastic._

_The point is soaring far over Julian's head, because the guy has a unique talent on getting stuck on the details, and Josh can't_ deal _with it –or anything else in his life, apparently, and before he knows what he's doing he stalking out the door, and halfway down the street before there's a yank of a metal hand grabbing his wrist and pulling him around._

 _So Josh turns, and without really thinking about it, he kisses Julian, tilting his head back because they're standing so close –and thank God Julian isn't six foot. Josh doesn't dare push it, and he steps back, his thoughts quickly turning to a stream of_ fuck fuck fuck fuck _. He doesn't even know if Julian_ likes _guys. He's straight, as far as Josh knows. Christ._

_He pulls away hastily._

_"No," Julian says in a tight voice. "Kiss me again."_

_Josh stares at him, startled, and Julian gazes back and even in the dark, there's a dazed expression on his face. Then, before Josh can movie, Julian leans forward, cupping Josh's face, and he kisses him again, pushing his mouth open with his tongue. It's a deep and slow and the kind of kiss where you need to know what the inside of their mouths tastes like, and you don't quite care what happens later so long as the kiss doesn't stop now—_

_Josh pulls back. "Wait," he says, "Are you sure-?"_

_Julian rolls his eyes, and someone down the line, the gesture has gone from irritated to fondly exasperated, and that's all the answer Josh needs._

* * *

Josh wakes up with a headache and the feeling that he's forgotten something important and he peers around blearily. He remembers where he is when he hears the kids making noise downstairs and he gets dressed and goes to the kitchen just in time to find Miss Kristen herding the children out the door for school.

Henry is leaned against the counter, a mug of coffee in hand. "I've got to get to work in half an hour," he says, "But you're welcome to stay,"

"Thanks," Josh says, shuffling over to the fridge to find something to eat. "Got any aspirin, though? I've got the worst headache..."

"I'll get you something," Henry says.

Josh closes the refrigerator and straightens up, rubbing his temples. "I'd heal it myself, you know, but I've been told not to use my powers for a while."

"Do you think your headache has something to do with..."

Josh takes the aspirin from Henry and shakes his head. "Nah. It's a normal headache. Well," he throws back the aspirin and goes to get a glass of water. "I think I might've had a weird dream. I can't…I can't remember it now. I was in, like, a city and… No, I can't remember it."

Henry makes a sympathetic sound. "Those are the worst."

Josh squeezes his eyes shut and thinks, hoping to recall some faint impression. There's a face, he thinks, but he knows everything was clearer when he was asleep and now… it's all gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Interesting note on Santo’s comments at the beginning of the chapter; it has been stated in canon that mutants can’t actually get AIDS.   
> *Kinda makes sense that Josh doesn’t tell anyone when he leaves Genosha, considering the Writers Above have said that he is living there after Necrosha, yet he is nowhere to be seen/mentioned when the JGS kids go there on a field trip later…
> 
>  
> 
> DUN DUN DUN!!!
> 
> Okay, sO i've been hinting that Josh's memories are returning, but are they really? When will the memories finally start sticking? And what will Josh do? But yeah, um, seriously. What the hell.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> um filler  
> i promise some more plot things will happen next chapter

The place where Josh's tombstone had been is empty, the headstone removed and the earth no doubt overturned under the snow.

Julian had almost bought extra flowers on his way down from the city. It's strange, coming over for the holidays and not bringing a bouquet or something else to leave, just for Josh. He makes his rounds, dropping a mini, red-ribbon laced wreath over Brian's grave and the memorial plaques for Kevin, Max, Laurie, and several others. He likes to rotate which places to leave flowers at every time he comes to visit, but he's always made a point to leave something at Josh's grave. Which is gone, now, of course. Because he's not actually dead.

"Hello, Julian," Laura says.

He doesn't jump, though this accomplishment occurs with a little less frequency than he likes to think it does. "Hey," he says, looking over at her.

"We had it removed at the end of November," Laura says. "We weren't sure, at first. Jean-Paul's statue is still up, but he doesn't have an issue with it."

"I can't believe that thing survived all these years," Julian mutters. "Figures."

"Have you heard from Josh-?"

"No," Julian says at once. "He's still in Chicago with his brother, anyway."

Laura raises an eyebrow. "Oh, did no one tell you?"

He narrows his eyes. "Tell me what?"

She brings her hand up and observes the condition of her less than stellar cuticles, but she's fooling no one.

"Blasé isn't a great look on you," Julian snaps.

Laura sighs. "Josh came back to the school last week. I thought someone would have mentioned it to you. I was relying on Santo to do it at your birthday party last week. That's what he usually does." She mutters to herself.

"Well the only thing Santo did was start ranting about Vic's boyfriend Jason once he got drunk. Do you know how many beers it takes to get Santo drunk?"

"Santo has attachment issues," Laura says. "He is jealous that the best friend he has always relied on to be at his side is now entering a more serious relationship. However, I have been observing"

"-I don't need to get the whole run down on your internal psychological evaluation of all of our friends," Julian says. He turns on his heel and walks with Laura back to the school. "So, how's the X-Virus case?"

"S.H.I.E.L.D managed to track down and close the labs that Delilah gave us," Laura said. "What was discovered was troubling –which makes the lack of Malignant X-Gene Infection cases even more alarming."

"There hasn't been anything since the breakout in Chicago?" Julian had almost been unsurprised to learn that Isis had been target. Since he had worked there, it had grown in size and notoriety. The area he had once lived in had been transformed into a burgeoning mutant district in the city of Chicago.

"No," Laura says grimly. "And we don't have many leads. We're… sitting ducks, as it is."

They reach the school courtyard and enter through the doors there. "You know," Julian says, "I'd be willing to help. At any time. The rest of the team isn't officially off the case yet."

Laura nods, "I realize this. However, with your various jobs, it makes more sense for me to lead the charge in conducting the longer investigatory work."

"Just using us as the heavy hitters, huh, X?" Julian teases.

"What other good are you for?" she says. "Besides, nobody likes to complain, but Victor's work with Worthington requires him to be in Manhattan more than he is necessarily available and Cessily and Santo have commitments as teachers. Not to mention, Megan's vague position in the mutant entertainment business has become increasingly time-consuming."

Julian snorts, well aware of the on-going jokes about Megan's work. "You sure you don't mind 'leading the charge' all by yourself?"

Laura smiles. "I'm an independent contractor. Like you, I'm just doing my job. Besides. I think it's nice that our generation has managed to create a more or less stable lifestyle, don't you?"

Julian raises an eyebrow. "Was that a dig at the first X-Men?"

"Perhaps,"

By this time, they've entered the staff lounge on the first floor. Quentin Quire is sitting across his usual seat, one bamf sitting on his head and another on his knee, but he's busying himself with his phone. He barely looks up as they enter and Julian drops his duffel bag on the ground near his chair before going over to the counter in the corner of the room to make himself a coffee. Laura plops down in front of the T.V and turns it on to a news channel.

Quentin groans and says, " _Alright_ ," He sits up and glares at Julian, who has turned around, mug in hand. "Ruth would like to inform you that Foley has recently retained recollection of a new memory and is currently experiencing severe mental anguish… or something. God. No, I'm not saying that!" he adds, yelling at the ceiling.

A panicked sort of feel freezes Julian where he stands. "Oh yeah?" he says, possibly louder than necessary, "And what am I supposed to do about that?"

"Well do  _me_  a solid and go  _talk_  to him," Quentin says.

"You know there's a bamf on your head?" Julian says.

Quentin rolls his eyes, "That's not Bamf, Keller," he says in the tone of  _duh_ , "That's Baramf Obama and Logan Junior the Third."

"My bad," Julian says, unbothered. He picks his duffel off the ground and makes his way out of the room.

"Does this mean you'll go?" Quentin calls.

Julian doesn't answer, but on his way to his usual guest room, he pauses. Josh's room is probably on the same hall… He shakes his head. No. He's not going there. Ruth is a meddlesome woman with too much time and a head for gossip and he's not going to play into her hand.

He goes to his room, throwing his duffel on his bed and sitting down, sipping at his coffee. He'd left his laptop in his office and hadn't noticed into he was already nearly to the school, so he was going to have to find a way to spend the holidays either in constant socialization or artfully avoiding everyone while still finding something else to do. Maybe he ought to go to the library?

As Julian considers his options, there's a knock on his door. He immediately crosses several people off the list of who it could be, as he is not actually in cahoots with many people who are likely to knock before entering.

Julian sends his mug to the desk in the corner of the room and crosses over to the door, opening it to find—

"Delilah," he says, surprised. "I didn't know you were here."

She smiles. She looks better, less gaunt, and she's wearing one of the school uniforms. There's a patch on the back of her head, however, where Julian can see that a piece of metal has been fitted over the place where there used to be wires. There's something odd about Delilah's eyes as well –now that Julian sees them open. The irises are encircled by a sort of red, mechanical light.

"Hello, Julian," Delilah says, speaking haltingly, "Yes. I've been accepted as a student here. I heard that you arrived for the holidays and… I wanted to get a chance to… thank you. For saving me."

Julian blinks. "You saved yourself, you know."

"You and… Dust. Found me."

Julian shifts a little under her steady gaze.

"I had been… regaining some conscience. Consciousness. It was the others. They spoke to me… but I didn't… break free until you. Came for us." Delilah's smile broadens. "I don't… know where I was. Before the dark. But I am happy now. To be here."

Julian swallows thickly. "Yeah, no problem. I'm glad we found you."

Delilah suddenly looks down, frowning. "I knew about you, Julian Keller. I didn't know it was you when you… came to the …dark place. But they told me your name when I woke…up. And I knew you."

Julian frowns also. "Um, do you want to come in? We can talk about it, I guess."

Delilah nods and shuffles past Julian and into the room. She takes a seat at the desk chair and Julian sits at the end of his bed. "So, uh…"

"They were very… quiet years. But they did. Talk to me. One day, I heard a voice in my system check. Error. 'Is anyone there?' they said. It was… an error. I was puzzled. Time date stamp February first, twenty-eleven. Nine-oh-three A.M. I ran voice recognition software and determined based on…archive footage…that the interrupting string belonged to Tank…fifteen."

The number is familiar and Julian pales. "Josh talked to you? Did he say anything else?"

"He seemed… confused." Delilah bites her lower lip. "I'm sorry, I don't remember a lot. From the beginning. But I remember your name. I think he liked to talk. Remember. In the silence. It was dark, you see. In the tanks." She makes a frustrated sound. "I'm sorry. I am taking. Speech therapy to help my flow. Brain to mouth word flow."

"Don't worry about it," Julian says faintly. "He…Josh talked about me?"

"Yes." Delilah says. "He does not… remember me. But to be fair, he has never… seen me."

"Don't take it too harshly," Julian says, "He doesn't remember a lot of things."

"Why don't you just tell him?"

Julian makes a face. "Why? Besides, S.H.I.E.L.D wants him to remember naturally"

"-Considering they no longer believe that Joshua Foley will remember naturally, I do not think… it matters if you tell him." Delilah points out, "But I think. If there was somebody who could tell me where I came from… I would want to know."

Julian scowls. "The thing between Josh and me –that's no one's business."

"What 'thing'?"

He sighs loudly. "It's in the past, Delilah," he says sternly. "Okay? We used to –I don't know –date. We dated for a while. Probably would've for longer, but he died. Alright? That's the thing. I'm glad he's alive. I guess. But I've been over him for years."

"Dated," Delilah echoes. "A romantic and sometimes sexual involvement between"

"-Yes," Julian says, "That's what it means."

Delilah smiles. "Okay. Well. Look at the time. I have to go." She stands abruptly. "It has been nice seeing you. Again,"

"Um, yeah, okay…" Julian follows her to the door to see her out and she all but skips down the hall. Yeah. She's a strange one.

Julian makes to close his door again when across the hall, a room opens.

Josh stares across the hall at him, and he looks like death warmed over, wearing sweats and an old sweater. There are dark circles under his eyes and his hair is stuck up in different directions like he's just woken up, or like he's been pulling at it. His hair is… it's quite obviously streaked through with silver, like it's halfway between being blond and white. Josh stares across the hall at Julian, eyes unfocused and one oddly less blue than the other.

"Oh," Josh says faintly. "I thought I heard something."

"Yeah. Hey," Julian says. "Are you, um, okay?"

Josh blinks and then a look of comprehension floods over him. "Oh," he says, waving at himself, "This. I'm fine. It just started last week. Hank says I…" He frowns. "Never mind."

"So, you're going back to normal," Julian says.

"Yeah," Josh says shortly, "I guess so." He pauses, and then blurts out, "I'm remembering things, too."

"I know."

"More things," Josh insists, "Not just sitting in random places or parts of conversations."

"Alright," Julian says slowly, even though all he wants to ask is what Josh remembers, what  _exactly_  he remembers. What he knows about them. "Good for you," Julian says.

Josh opens his mouth and then stops and nods. "Thank you," he says stiffly, and goes to close his door.

"Um," Julian says.

Josh stops.

"Ruth said –well, Quire said you… you're upset about something. Maybe."

"No," Josh says, at once and unusually loudly.

Julian half-startles and then gives Josh a dubious look, "Right." He says, "No, of course. Ruth's a liar anyway." He raises an eyebrow, challenging Josh to agree with the statement and risk the wrath of Ruth's omnipotence.

"Don't you try and corner me into saying something," Josh says fiercely, taking a step out of his doorway and into the hallway. For a moment, his stern glare and defiant posture is reminiscent of a past Josh. Then he shifts into a half-slouch, putting his weight onto one foot and crossing his arms. There are dark patches spotting his hands.

Julian stares at them.

"Are you  _listening_ to me?" Josh snaps. He shifts again, tucking both hands under his arms

"I am not  _cornering_  you," Julian says eventually, forcing his gaze back up to Josh's mismatched eyes. "I'm just wondering why Ruth would say you're upset if you're not."

"I'm not upset," Josh says at once. He then amends, "Okay, I'm a little upset, but only to the extent where Ruth is mostly right and I'm not calling her a liar."

Julian feels himself smile a little, despite everything.

"I don't think it's really Ruth's place to go blabbing about what's going on in peoples' heads," Josh complains.

"Don't you know Ruth at all?"

"No," Josh says pointedly, "I don't actually remember ever talking to her."

Julian winces at the reminder that this Josh is not –his. "So no chance of you telling me why you're upset?" he says, choosing to change the subject with a nonchalant tone.

"Honestly, I'm not sure why you keep pretending to care sometimes, when you try your best to ignore me the rest of the time," Josh says. "Oh, right. We're friends, aren't we?" He tilts his head to the side, and as he does so, a large portion of the skin on his forearm turns a metallic black.

Julian swallows hard. "I'd give a shit even if we weren't." he says weakly. It's a lie. It's  _such_  a lie, because Josh is right and at this point, he's struggling to somehow both ignore Josh and keep a detailed record of his movements and health. The result is that he hovers inappropriately and acts like a dick, apparently.

Josh sighs heavily, stepping back again and leaning against his doorway. There's a stretch of silence where he looks like he's trying to come to some sort of decision, and he chews at his lower lip rather distractingly. "When we were roommates," he begins hesitantly, "Did I ever date guys?" He stares at a point over Julian's shoulder, unwilling to meet his eye.

"Oh." Julian says.  _That_ 's what Josh is upset about. He momentarily panics, wondering what Josh has remembered to make him ask that. It clearly isn't  _him_ , though, or Josh would've said something else, right? "Um, yeah," he says eventually, "And girls, I guess. I wasn't paying too much attention. There's nothing wrong with dating dudes."

Josh doesn't say anything. He just looks up at the ceiling with a strained expression. "Great," he says, "So did I, what, have a boyfriend?"

"Something like that, I guess," Julian says, sounding a bit strangled even to his own ears. "I didn't really pay attention."

"I didn't have you meet anyone?"

"Nope," Julian insists.

Josh nods slowly. "Okay. So I'm… I'm queer." He sucks in a deep breath and holds it, like he's trying to process that.

"Are you?" Julian finds himself wondering aloud.

Josh throws him a look, and it's another one of the few moments he doesn't look completely out of his depth. Turns out he's capable of giving Julian that unimpressed sort of expression regardless of who ore when he thinks he is. "I don't really think that sort of thing is subject to change with amnesia," he says.

Julian shrugs. "I wouldn't know,"

They fall to silence once more, each standing in their respective doorways, the maroon carpet of the hallway stretching between them.

"You know," Josh says slowly, "I already knew we were friends before I asked you that time a couple of weeks ago. Everyone already said. I just didn't think you'd admit it," he sees Julian open his mouth for automatic protest and continues quickly, "I know you don't like me, because I haven't been through what –because I don't remember what we've been through, but I can't do this on my own, okay?"

Once again, Julian opens his mouth to answer; once again, Josh interrupts him.

"I'm not going to remember  _everything_ , Keller, but I'm remembering some things which  _has_  to mean these  _are_  my memories to have. I just want to hear about what happened from someone who was there, okay? I mean, I've read all the news articles and everything and I'm…" Josh runs out of steam midsentence and he just looks around, as if looking for something to tell him how to articulate his thoughts concisely.

"I'm not going to tell you shit," Julian says.

Josh scowls and makes a move to turn away, so Julian finishes loudly, "But if you remember something and have a question, I can try to answer." He wonders if, at this point, simply stabbing himself in the chest a couple of times might be a better way to get the fucking  _heartache_  over with. What is this, some sort of cosmic joke in the form of a terrible romantic drama? He winces internally. He probably shouldn't have spent the last weekend marathoning every single sad romance movie he's never wanted to watch.

The thing is, half of what Josh has forgotten is some serious delicate shit, and Julian might be vice-president of the X-Corp charity foundations and outreach programs, but he runs the business end of those departments. He's still only twenty-five, still a little hopeless when it comes to maturely dealing with personal relationships, and Julian can't even begin to figure out how he would explain some things. The thing about the past is that, looking back, everything is made simple, even when it  _wasn't_ , and just saying "but it's a lot more complicated than that" doesn't do the situation justice.

Josh does the terrible thing and smiles, just a little. It disappears just as quickly, but he sounds pleased when he says, "That's all I wanted, man,"

Julian clears his throat. "Do you, uh, have anything for me at the moment?"

"Besides 'am I really queer'?" Josh says. He tilts his head to the side. "Yeah. Where were we when you worked at Starbucks?"

Julian snorts involuntarily. "A  _tiny_  ass apartment near the San Franciscan Mutant District. Not as small as the one in Chicago, though."

"So which one was the one with the water-stained walls?" Josh says. "I remember. Sleeping on the ground."

"Both of them had stains on the walls, but if you were on the floor, it would've been the one in California." Julian says. He eyes Josh thoughtfully. "Do you remember what it looked like?" He's half hopeful.

"There was, like, nothing in it," Josh says, "I remember a mini fridge. No table, though?" He presses his lips together like he's fighting back a smile.

"Yeah, you bought the fridge," Julian recounts, "Because you don't like room-temperature fruit. You always did the grocery shopping, too, but mostly just because you didn't trust me to figure out what counted as nutritious, you know?"

"Warm apples are disgusting," Josh insists.

They're both grinning by now.

"Hey," Josh says suddenly, "Do you want to…" he gestures toward back into his room with a vague wave of his hand, "Hang out, I guess? We could go to the Rec Room. I dunno, there's just not much for me to do around here, and, um," He begins to trail off uncertainly and looks down at his feet.

Julian stares at him a moment. "Yeah," he says, "Sure, I mean. I don't have much to do, either," He can't remember sounding this nervous and awkward for years.

"Cool," Josh says, turning and heading back into his room.

Julian hesitates in his own doorway for a moment. Then he steps across the threshold and into the hall, and he crosses into Josh's rooms, which turns out to look basically like his own.

Josh has turned on the television and is sitting on one side of the sofa, legs pulled up to his chest. "C'mon," he says, waving Julian over. "I've been catching up with stuff. I can't believe Katie Couric isn't on CBS anymore. It's  _criminal_ ," He looks genuinely affronted at the resignation, and it's just another thing that isn't  _wrong_  because it's different, but rather, it's new. Josh  _died_  before Katie Couric left fucking CBS.

Julian smirks. "So you don't like the new guy? You know, Hisako's got a bit of a crush on that guy." He closes the door and moves into the room.

Josh makes face. "Not my type," he says. "I think I like them younger." He stops, looking surprised by his own admission. "I remember a guy at a bar. Dark hair, flannel… a beard, I guess. Do you know who that might've been?" he asks, "I mean, that's why I asked. Earlier."

_That's_ why he asked. Some other guy. "No," he says, maybe a little harsher than he intended, "Like I said, I didn't keep track of who you... dated. I don't know any names. Sorry."

"That's alright," Josh says, "Okay, how 'bout this? I'll say something, and you tell me if it's Chicago or San Francisco. Is that allowed?"

Julian chews at his lower lip. "I guess so," he says finally.

"Alright, so, I remember us eating dinner at this diner with bright red booths and yellow tables"

"-Chicago," Julian says. "There was a diner near the apartment. We ate there a lot because it was heated."

"Walking outside during the winter. I think you were there, anyway."

"Chicago,"

"Everything cold was Chicago then, was it?"

"We were there in the winter," Julian explains. "And our place had the  _shittiest_  heating." He pauses. "There wasn't really any heating. There was less money. In Chicago." Julian sits down at the other side of the couch, as far away as possible, and crosses his legs on the seat.

Josh nods, although a crease in his brow suggests he can't quite fathom poverty on such a level. "Okay, what about a truck, then?"

"What?"

"I remember falling asleep in this old truck. It smelled like peppermint but the windows were open and it was warm outside." Josh explains. "Was that California?"

Julian knows the truck, but doesn't know how to explain it. "Yeah," he says eventually, "We ate at iHop with Megan and Laura."

Josh looks smug, "You told me something I didn't remember," he points out. "You said you weren't going to do that,"

Julian struggles with what to say. For once, he decides to go with the God given truth. "There aren't a lot of good memories surrounding that truck you remember," he says, "IHop afterward was the only good thing. It was just… breakfast."

Josh is quiet. "I'll keep that in mind. When I remember."

_When_.

Julian swallows hard and nods. "Look," he says, "Whatever you remember, can you just. Don't think  _too_  badly of it. Whatever happened."  _Don't think too badly of yourself_ , he wants to say,  _or me_.

"Sounds reasonable," Josh says, "Can't make any promises, though," He smiles, but at the same time, the dark patches on one of his arms bleeds together so that one arms is all black up to where Josh's sleeve is rolled up to. He notices at the same time Julian makes a small face and sighs. "Hank says it's not  _bad_ , since I'm not using my powers, but it doesn't… it looks bad, huh?"

Julian just nods. How can he say anything reassuring about  _that_? Josh doesn't even remember how terrified he was of being like this, and now he's just… becoming his worst nightmare.

"So what about you?" Josh says, "What've you been up to since I died?" He says this last part with an eye roll, as if he finds this time mark less than ideal. "Cessily says you're in charity work or something?"

Julian blinks. "Yeah, I guess so. I run a lot of the X-Corps charity foundations and outreach programs. Organizing and securing sponsors, mostly. It's like a management position."

"That's… I never expected that from you, to be honest," Josh admits. "But it's in business, isn't it? So I guess it makes sense."

"Thought I'd go to Worthington or some other big corporation?" Julian says. "You wouldn't be the first."

"Do you like what you do?"

"Yeah. We help people," Julian says simply. In truth, he's keeping his answers short because he knows, if given the chance, he might just go on and on to the point where the subject becomes a bore.

"Tell me about it," Josh says.

"It's nice,"

"No," Josh says, staring hard at Julian, " _Tell_  me about it. Does X-Corp have anything for, like, health coverage?"

Julian stares back, puzzled by the apparent genuineness of Josh's interest. "Well," he says slowly, "We've started a medical finance assistance program. We're trying to broaden the applicant requirements to include conditions that most disability insurance companies don't accept…" He pauses and narrows his eyes at Josh, who's listening with a small smile curving the corners of his mouth, "You seriously wanna know?"

"Sure," Josh says, hugging his legs and leaning forward a little, "I like hearing people talk about things they're interested in," His eyes meet Julian's, one white, the other fading from blue, and he grins. "Besides, there's only rules on telling me about the past, not the present."

"Don't blame me if you get bored," Julian warns.

Josh holds up a hand. "I wouldn't dare. Scout's honor."

"You were never a boy scout," Julian scoffs.

"No, but my dad wanted me to join, so I think I was one in spirit," Josh responds cheekily.

Julian laughs.

* * *

_"I …uh, I don't usually do this. Tell me what to do._ "

_Josh tilts his head to the side, considering the client. "Alright, sit down," He says, "There's no need to be nervous." He sits down on one of the hotel chairs, across from the bed, where Darren is perched. The hotel room is big –a suite. It's the biggest fucking bedroom Josh has ever been in._

_"I don't usually hire –I mean. I just saw you, when the car was passing by your spot. You're beautiful."_

_Josh smiles for Darren. "That's nice of you to say,"_

_"No," Darren insists, eyes widening, "I mean it, you're like –you're like a god or something. Apollo, maybe. You –you shine."_

_Josh stands and moves over to the bed to sit next to Darren. "That's just my skin, sweetheart."_

_"You're an angel," Darren murmurs._

_Josh smiles, this time in real in amusement, "I'm whatever you want me to be," he says, climbing over Darren and onto his lap. He pushes Darren onto his back and leans over him, "Just relax. You'll love it, I promise."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *May I just say that this chapter underwent several major plot changes before I settled on this. Like seriously, this was a pain in the butt to pace. Previous versions included kisses, comas, and Quentin Quire carry-ons.  
> *I have an alliteration affliction.  
> *Warm apples really are disgusting


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> forgive me for the late update and also if the narrative style seems different than usual. i've been working on this as well as a different (non fanfic) story simultaneously

Julian blinks sleep out of his eyes and looks around groggily, searching for the time before he realizes why he's awake in the first place.

The knocking on his door continues energetically all the way up to the point that Julian approaches and opens it. "What?" he snaps, poking his head into the hall.

Cessily puts her hands on her hips, "Well, good morning to you as well," she says, "I was coming to tell you we're heading up to meet Vic, but it looks like you've been asleep this entire time. We're leaving in half an hour, if you wanna come with."

"Okay."

They both hover at the doorway for a moment and then Cessily says cheerfully, "Alright, see you later!"

Julian watches her retreat down the hall with narrowed eyes.

* * *

The group assembled to travel up to Manhattan includes Santo, Megan, Cessily, and Josh. When Julian meets them in the room just outside of the garage, Josh catches his eye and smiles. He's wearing a hoodie with the sleeves down and his hands in his pockets, and his face is yet untouched by the metamorphosis of his skin from a flesh tone to metallic black. His eyes are both completely white again, and more of his hair is white than blond. Seeing these familiar features return bit by bit over time is rather bewildering, but if anyone else thinks so, they've clearly perfected the X-Men attitude of being thoroughly unimpressed by strange happenings.

"You came," Cessily says happily, as if she didn't expect it.

Julian shrugs and sips at the coffee he's brought along. "X isn't coming?"

"She took off early this morning," Megan says, "S.H.I.E.L.D called her in for something to do with the case she's working on."

"It's just us then?" Julian says, looking around.

"I'll drive," Josh volunteers brightly. "We finished driver's ed in September and" –he stops abruptly.

"No way," Cessily says, filling the silence at once, "You don't have a license or a permit anymore. I'll drive."

"Cess, the guy already died once, plus he already had to experience your weird braking on the way here from S.H.I.E.L.D," Santo says. Ignoring her outraged expression, he declares, "Julian's driving. Sorry, Megan. You're a shit driver, too,"

"What are these lies and slander?" Megan complains teasingly. "I think you just have a bias."

"Telekinetics are better drivers," Julian says. "It's proven." He floats the keys from where Cessily is holding them loosely in her hand and catches it with a gauntlet. "Let's move."

They take the van, Cessily riding shotgun and Santo taking up the last row all by himself. They put on Victor's CD for the occasion, and spend half the ride into the city shrieking along to indie pop bands. A lot of the songs are from earlier in the decade, and even Josh knows the lyrics.

The weekend traffic is particularly atrocious, and it takes them almost an hour to get into the city and then park in a garage and walk over to Worthington Plaza to meet Victor in the lobby.

Santo bounds ahead of the rest of the group, and grabs Victor with a triumphant roar, picking him up and carrying over his head back to the others.

Victor, to his credit, only makes an exasperated sound and yells, "Put me down, you big idiot, I'm still at work," and once he's got two feet firmly planted on the ground, he punches Santo's arm (to no effect) and turns to everyone with a smile. "How's it going?"

Nobody misses the fact that his eyes are on Josh when he asks the question, but Santo says, "I can't believe you're working through Christmas, dude. What the hell?"

They dissolve into bickering, which Cessily breaks up by clapping them both on the back and saying loudly, "Let's get going, okay?"

They get lunch at a local favorite in New Mutant Town and not halfway into the meal, Victor's boyfriend joins them. While everyone is still making light conversation near the end of the meal, Julian steps out of the diner to run down the block and grab his laptop from the office. He's almost there before he realizes he's being followed.

He's not really sure how he managed to miss Santo trailing after him, but he attributes it to Santo's increased stealth and grace from his several years as a P.E and combat instructor at the school. That, or Julian's really just losing his touch. Santo's never been that subtle.

He stops at the crosswalk and waits for Santo to catch up. "Hey," he says, "What's up?"

Santo shrugs. "Nothing," he insists, "Just thought I'd go with you."

Julian raises his eyebrows. "Alright." He's not that sure why Santo's lying, but he lets it go. Santo will generally blab if there's something he really wants to say to someone. "You still seeing that Lyla girl?" Julian asks as they continue on their way.

Santo snorts loudly. "Nah, man," he says. He sighs. "What about you?"

"Me?" Julian snorts.

"Yeah. It's been, like, over a month since Eliza broke up with you, right?"

"We dated for a long time. I don't really want to… for a while," Julian says. He looks ahead, "The building's about a block over," he announces, hurrying forward.

The building is emptier than usual for the holidays, and they aren't waylaid by any of Julian's colleagues on their way toward the back of the office, where Julian's personal office is. It's only slightly bigger than the rest of the offices, but it's got a plaque with his name on the door, which somehow makes it a bigger deal. Julian's not exactly sure about the whole hierarchy of the business.

When they enter the office, Santo gives a low whistle. "Nice place," he says, "Real homey."

It's not a lie. The two windowsills in the room are stuffed with picture frames. There's a couple on Julian's desk and on the filing cabinets, all photos of Julian with friends or kids he's met in the outreach program. Santo lumbers over to examine some while Julian goes to his desk to gather his laptop and any binders of papers he might need. He's in the middle of debating with himself the merits of bringing a lengthy packet of papers detailing procedures he  _mostly_  knows when Santo says, "Man, where was this?"

Julian glances over to where he's holding up a wallet-sized photo that Julian doesn't remember keeping by the small bookshelf he has. "Probably an event…" he says, drawing closer to take a look at the picture. His eyes widen, "Wait, where'd you find this?"

It's an old picture of Josh and him in Chicago from Christmas Day. Josh is grinning, one arm around Julian's shoulder and keeping him in frame even as Julian is frowning, mouth open mid complaint. In the picture, it's snowing all around them, the Macy's store faintly labeled through the white flurries behind them.

"It was kind of stuck in this book," Santo says, holding up the offending title –some recent history of mutants type book Julian hasn't touched in ages. "So?"

Julian stares at photo. "Chicago. He took it on his phone. I got his phone after –when he died. And I printed the pictures he had… this was the only one –Christ, I thought I'd lost this years ago." He hadn't been able to find it after he moved into this office. "It must've gotten stuck in the book when I moved offices." He can't quite bring himself to look away from the picture. It couldn't have been more than four years ago, but they look so… so young. "Christ," he mutters again, "We were fucking kids back then, huh?"

Santo shrugs, paging through the book in his hands. "Got all your stuff?" he asks.

Julian slips the photo into his jacket pocket. "Yeah," he says, "We better go back and meet up with the others."

"Can I take this?" Santo holds up the book.

"Knock yourself out."

They take their time going back to the diner. Julian's about to ask what Santo thinks about Jason, Victor's artist (or was it musician?) boyfriend when Santo says, clearly trying to be casual about it, "So you gonna, like, get back with Josh anytime soon?"

Julian coughs. "Um, probably  _not_?" he says, "Dude, I don't know, don't ask me. He barely remembers he's bi."

"No shit?" Santo falls to thoughtful silence. Just when Julian thinks he's in the clear, Santo asks, "But you still like him, right? I mean, dude, you pretty much gotta still like him. He died. Remember Piotr? 'Okay, I'm over it guys'. Then Kitty comes back and pow! Married with a bun in the oven,"

"You forgot the awkward phase where Piotr went all Phoenix Five and Kitty dated Bobby," Julian mutters.

Santo goes on, gesturing broadly as they near the diner, "Point is, you two have –whatsit –unresolved feelings."

Julian shoves Santo the best he can. "Not  _him_ , you moron. _He_  doesn't remember anything. Not about what  _happened_."

"Why don't you tell him already?"

"It's not right!" Julian says, sighing with frustration.

Santo shrugs, puzzled. "But we all fill him in on stuff all the time. Like, last Monday, No-Girl was telling him about how you and X were totally five seconds away from dating back in the day –you know, basically updating him on all of our teenage romantic tension and shit. Did you know Noriko and David started dating off and on again?  _Again_? What the hell, right?"

" _What_?" Julian sputters.

"I know, man. Like, break up for good – _again_  –or fuckin' get married."

"No," Julian says, ignoring Santo's remarks, "Why was No-Girl talking about me and Laura? And no, we were  _not_ ,"

Santo rolls his eyes, or at least, Julian imagines he is, because Santo hasn't got the visible pupils for it, but he's tilting his head back a little and heaving a great sigh. "Seriously, dude? You  _were_ , yo. Don't fight it," Santo says, "I mean, that's why you never  _did_  date. Anyway, don't try and distract me. I talk to Vic and I teach a bunch of kids who just wanna hit things without talking about it. I know your tricks, Keller."

They stop at a crosswalk, the diner just across the street, and Julian sighs and clutches his bag closer to his chest. "Fine. I'm not telling Josh anything, because he doesn't remember liking me, and I'm not going to make it weird. Like 'hey, I know you don't like me but we were dating when you died and also the sex was great'? So  _yeah_ , I'm not saying anything about that. He knows I don't want to tell him anything he doesn't remember, anyways, okay?"

"Okay, one, did not need the mental image. Two, I'm pretty sure Josh doesn't  _not_  like you and three, this shit is gonna come back to bite you in the ass," Santo says. "Mark my words, Keller. You know what Cess says –honesty's the best policy."

"Oh yeah?" Julian makes a face, "And when does she ever say that?"

"When the kids won't say who started it when they know they're all gonna be in trouble anyway." Santo grins widely.

The crosswalk turns to go.

* * *

When the rejoin the rest of the group, Cessily and Megan are talking to Jason, the three of them laughing uproariously, while Josh and Victor speak off to the side, hunched in on their conversation, words quiet. There's a frustrated look on Josh's face, which quickly disappears when he and the rest of the group notice Julian and Santo's return. The neutral expression that takes over Josh's features is all at once familiar and unnervingly quick in its transition.

"Took you two long enough," Cessily says, "We were just telling Jason here about the scrutiny he's going to be put under now that he's past the two month mark."

Victor sighs loudly and Jason grins, "Look, man, I get it. I'd hate it if you guys didn't approve of me when I know how much Vic's friends mean to him."

Megan giggles and pats Jason's arm. "It's not  _us_  you have to worry about. Santo's the real judge here."

Santo crosses his arms and narrows his eyes at Jason, who briefly looks uncertain and maybe a little apprehensive.

"Okay," Victor says before anything else can be said, "Julian, did you get everything? We're all done and paid here, so I figure we should head over to Fifth Avenue."

With that, those still sitting gather their things and bundle up to head back into the cold. Victor and Jason lead the group out, Santo taking it upon himself to hover threateningly over Jason's shoulder to see how well he deals under pressure.

Cessily catches Julian's gaze and grins, rolling her eyes in a  _what can you do_  sort of way before linking arms with Megan and following after them.

"How do you like it here?" Julian asks Josh as they trail after the group.

"I grew up in Queens," Josh says, frowning, "I've been to Manhattan before."

"No," Julian waves around them, "Bad wording. I meant, how do you like it at Jean Grey's? With us?"

"I keep forgetting some people's names," Josh says sheepishly, "And then I wonder if they think I'm avoiding them for some other reason."

"I doubt anyone thinks that."

"It's just a thought. You know, one of those things you can't stop thinking, even though you know it's stupid? I guess I just have a lot of those right now."

Julian frowns. "They're not all that bleak, are they?"

Josh smiles a little. "No," he says softly. "I think about other things."

Julian laughs to cover the sudden urge he gets to stop them where they're walking and demand to know  _what things_. "You think too much," he tells Josh. He nods toward the others, "C'mon, let's catch up."

It begins to snow as they near the Rockefeller Plaza, big clumps of snowflakes floating down on the wind.

Cessily groans loudly. "If it gets any colder, I'm going to start freezing," she says, folding her arms tightly over her chest.

"Don't be so dramatic, Cess," Victor says, rolling his eyes.

"One time it dropped below negative forty on a mission and Cess's fingers started freezing," Megan informs Jason, "It wasn't pretty."

"Negative  _forty_?" Jason says incredulously. "How did you guys survive?"

"Oh,  _we_ were in the 'bird. We sent Cess out with Iceman because up until that point, she's never felt cold in extreme temperatures." Megan giggles at the memory, although Julian remembers that particular mission to the Arctic and it had been no laughing matter at the time.

Josh elbows Julian, a silent question in the way he lifts his eyebrows.

"Arctic mission two years ago," Julian explains as they head into the Rockefeller Plaza.

"Do I know how to skate?" Josh wonders aloud when he's handed a pair of rental skates by Victor. "I don't remember knowing how to."

"It's like rollerblading," Victor says, "You'll get the hang of it."

"No hands, can't help you," Julian declares quickly, holding up his arms sans gauntlets.

"Bullshit," Josh accuses, but he has to shout it because Julian's already heading off to put his things from the office in a locker for safe keeping. His shout draws a couple of glares from parents nearby.

The ice rink is packed with New Yorkers, some making smooth rounds with their arms crossed, occasionally turning effortlessly to ice skate backwards for a while. Closer to the edges of the rinks, groups hobble along, slipping, sliding, and shrieking laughter the entire way.

Julian's telekinesis has always given him a greater sense of balance, and he picks up ice skating as well as any other individualized sport. He loops around the rink, scanning the crowd and wrapping his scarf over his mouth and nose to combat the cold. He waves briefly at Santo, who's letting Cessily pull him along the ice, and he passes Victor and Jason, gleefully bickering and clutching at each other for balance.

"Showing off, Keller?" Josh calls after him, "Some things really never change,"

Megan laughs by his side and accidentally lets Josh's arm go.

Julian lunges forward without a thought, snagging Josh's wrist before he can slip backwards.

"Looks like Julian's got this handled," Megan says brightly. Before anyone can say anything else, she's off, skating gracefully up the rink, weaving in and out of the crowd effortlessly.

"Urgh," Josh grumbles, "She put too many pixie stix in her cheerios or something?" He then uses Julian to right himself, and grips Julian's arm tightly in both of his.

He meets Julian's eye with a steady gaze, faint irises unwavering.

It's Julian who looks away when a snowflake catches on Josh's white eyelashes. "Whatever," he huffs, "Don't even think about dragging me down with you, though," he warns.

They haven't made it two shaky feet forward when a scream across the rink sends a chill down Julian's spine and makes him turn toward the source of the noise, ready to spring to arms.

Josh's grip on his arm tightens.

The ice skaters on the rink have broken out in curious and alarmed murmurings; half of them look around in confusion, while the other half strain to see the cause of the commotion.

Julian sees it because it's red.

Out of the corner of his eye he sees a streak of silver as Cessily rushes forward amidst an increase in startled shouts.

"C'mon," Julian mutters, and he drags Josh along with him toward the man who has collapsed on the ice, writhing in his own blood.

"Don't get close," Josh says, voice sharp, as they pass immediate onlookers, inching closer with either curiosity or a desire to help in some way.

Cessily has morphed her nose and mouth shut as she kneels down beside the man, a young thirty-something with brown hair peeking out from beneath a sock monkey hat. The man is on all fours, coughing furiously and sending blood and spit splattering all over the ice beneath him. His face is covered in raw, burn-like patches, and a dark purple lesion is quickly growing over the side of his neck.

Julian turns to Josh, "Can you do anything?" he demands, but Josh just stares, wide-eyed and grim.

"I've got an ambulance on the line," a woman shouts close by.

"Don't bother," Josh says suddenly and there's an eerie calmness about him as he stares down at a dying man. "Get S.H.I.E.L.D on the line."

* * *

The ice rink is evacuated and its former occupants briefly quarantined. Cessily's blood-soaked clothes are traded in for merchandise form the Rockefeller gift shop, and she emerges from a quarantine tent ages after everyone else, but her cellphone firmly pressed to her ear. "…Pixie said she and Rockslide didn't see any suspected members in the area, but knows how long ago the guy could've been hit with it? Yeah. No, too many witnesses. It's a media shit storm. X-Virus breakout in New York City. People are scared. No, yeah. Alright. Let us know if you find anything." She hangs up and looks around at the rest of the group, assembled and waiting for further news. "That was Laura," she explains. "She's in Hong Kong."

Agent Wang materializes at Cessily's side just as she opens her mouth to continue. "How is everyone?" she asks, staring at Josh under the pretense of checking in on everyone.

"Um, ma'am," Jason pipes up, "Was it a coincidence that this happened near a couple of the X-Men?"

Wang turns to him, taken aback for a moment. "Oh, you must be Jason Wellis. Well, S.H.I.E.L.D and the C.D.C are doing all we can to investigate the outbreak, Jason. I believe Homeland Security will be holding a press conference later today. You can watch it on T.V."

"It looks like we might have to cut this day out short," Victor says quickly, catching on to the polite front Agent Wang has adopted for Jason's sake. "C'mon, Jace, I'll walk you home,"

"Nice meeting you all," Jason says as Victor tugs him away.

They all watch them leave and then Wang turns back to the remaining group. "We're considering this an attack, you know. We believe it may have been a warning to this particular team –you were the team that liberated Delilah and Josh from the F.O.H bunker."

"What, the big bads are comin' after us or something?" Santo says incredulously, "Why announce their presence here and today?"

"We still aren't sure. It's an odd move," Agent Wang agrees. "S.H.I.E.L.D has sent word to all institutions housing mutants to stay on high alert for the time being. In the meantime, our only hope is to find the where the M.X.G.I samples are being kept. Of all of the F.O.H bunkers we've located so far, only three of them had small storages of the disease."

"So what," Cessily says, "We just go home now?"

"There's nothing this team can do right now," Agent Wang says.

Julian sighs. "I'll go get the car."

* * *

The ride back to the school is quiet, everyone lost in their own thoughts. It's not unusual that the X-Men don't immediately spring to action after some event, but it feels different this time. The inaction feels more helpless.

They arrive back to the school in time for dinner, and while the scent of cooking pot roast wafts through the halls, as the group emerges from the garage, they notice that the Rec Room directly across the hall is crammed with students. They're so silent Julian can hear the breaking news report long before he and the others enter the room silently.

The students' eyes are all fixed on the T.V screen in various degrees of horrified fascination.

Julian turns away, suddenly filled with disgust, as the broadcast replays someone's cellphone-captured video at the ice rink. He's out of the room before the kids realize Cessily's in the room as well as in the video and that it would be a good time as any to bombard her with questions.

What Julian doesn't count on is somebody following him, something he doesn't realize until they're both in the elevator. Jesus. Maybe he really is losing it.

"Need help with any of that?" Josh asks, nodding toward the bag as well as the several black binders Julian is carrying.

He raises his eyebrows, a knee jerk reaction of incredulity. He can't remember the last time anyone asked him if he needed help carrying something. Not even when he first lost his hands.

"Fair point," Josh says.

They continue the journey in silence, stepping out onto their floor and walking side by side toward their rooms. It's when they're about to part to their opposite sides of the hall that Julian turns to Josh, suddenly remembering—

"Hey," they say at the same time.

Then they both stop, both open their mouths again, and both stop. Julian lets out a huff and Josh's mouth curves just a little, the beginning of a smile ghosting across his lips. "You first," he decides.

"It's nothing," Julian says at once, "It's just –it's been kind of crazy, I sort of forgot, but…" he puts his bag down to float in the air next to him and reaches for his jacket pocket, taking the piece of paper that floats from his pocket and handing it to Josh while the green telekinetic glow is still fading.

Josh blinks, not expecting the picture, and takes it, staring down at it down for a mere second before barking laughter. "What is this?" he says.

Julian feels himself return the grin, "Santo found it in my office earlier. It's, uh, it's from the year you died –in Chicago. It's the only picture I have from that time, but. I dunno, I thought you'd want it, all the same."

The smile fades from Josh's face. "If it's the only picture from back then, you should keep it," he says quietly, holding the photograph back out.

"Nah," Julian says, "I remember it."

Josh takes the photo back and carefully stows it in his sweater pocket. "Thanks," he says.

"Your turn," Julian says.

Josh purses his lips. "I wanted to talk to you,"

"We're talking,"

"You know what I mean."

Julian stares down at Josh, a sudden uneasiness creeping over him. It's the uneasiness that he always gets when he thinks something serious is about to happen. He sighs. "Alright," he says, "Just let me put all this stuff in my room, okay?"

Josh nods and heads for his own room, the slouch of his shoulders more related to fatigue than to being under the impression that he is sixteen years old.

Julian puts his things away quickly, packing away the binders chronologically in the shelf over the television meant for DVDs and then setting his laptop on the desk in the bedroom to charge. He exchanges the button down over his t-shirt for an old Hellions sweater and is almost out the door before he doubles back to the mirror in the hall and checks his reflection

"This is dumb," he tells his reflection, halfway through trying to fix his hair, which had, at some point during the day, decided to attempt to fight the laws of gravity. "This is really dumb. What're you worrying about?" He scowls at himself and then forces himself to turn away.

Josh's door is ajar when he approaches and Julian pushes it open, stepping into a quiet hallway. The lights are off in the first room and Julian has wandered over to the couch, senses alert and subtly searching for the presence of a body among the room's furniture when his shoe hits something soft and he trips, tumbling to the ground in the dark.

He reaches out with his telekinesis, stretching it until he feels the wall in his mind, a couple feet away and flicks the light switch on.

Josh is sprawled across the floor as if he'd begun walking across the room and had simply collapsed. The white hairs falling onto his face stand out sharply against Josh's skin, which is now completely dark. The thing that scares Julian most, though, chills him to his very core, is the way Josh's eyes are still open, glazed over a blank.

For one, agonizingly long moment, Julian thinks Josh has died.

He kneels over him, gauntlets trembling as he reaches out, his thoughts jumping all over the place and his concentration totally blown. "Josh," Julian whispers. He swallows hard and feels like his heart is dropping into the pit of his stomach, "Josh?" He leans down and when he presses his ear to Josh's chest he can't hear anything, just his own, ragged breath and the blood thumping in his ears.

There's a terrible sense of familiarity of the scene. Julian thinks this might actually be hell. Real, spiritual Hell, not any of those dimensions they're always going to.

He needs to call someone, needs to get help, but Julian's rooted in place. Christ, this is his punishment. Maybe he's dead. Maybe none of it was real, maybe it was all just a trick and Julian never thought anything could be worse than sitting in the middle of a hotel room with a dead body in his arms but here the fuck he is.

Julian's gaze moves from Josh's unmoving chest to his wide, unseeing eyes, and it's then that Josh blinks, eye lashes brushing against dark cheeks as he squeezes his eyes shut. They snap open and there's a curious, rasping hiss as Josh breathes in suddenly.

Julian has no time for relief.

The unfocused look in Josh's eyes does not vanish in his revival. He blinks, and opens his eyes and he's still staring –perhaps seeing something else, something or somewhere far, far away. Josh breathes in sharply and then he screams, wordless and raw, and he screams like he's burning, wherever he thinks he is, and he doesn't stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *In the diner, Josh was definitely asking Vic about his experience being gay like, as if he’s going to just accept that in himself right away. pls.  
> *I have Julian say Josh is bi but lbr, they’re all pan. I mean in the Marvel universe? With aliens and shit? Pan. Soooo pan. How could they not be tbh. Okay, I mean not really but Josh. Definitely pan. Definitely. This is my headcanon and I will not be stopped.  
> *liquid metal mercury has a freezing point of around -38 deg F.  
> *I’ve been to the Rockefeller Plaza once in the summer when the ice rink was gone. Pretty sure they don’t have deposit lockers but I refuse to create such obvious plot holes as “where did all his shit go?”
> 
>  
> 
> alriiiiight.  
> so that happened. hope i didn't shock any of y'all with that blatant progression of story (something... actually... happened???? call the papers). I know I keep saying Laura's going to play a bigger role soon but it's starting to look like that's not going to happen. who knows? maybe after this is over, I'll write a little bit of stuff from her perspective to show what the hell she's been doing off stage. next chapter is probably going to switch around in POVs but I hope to use Delilah for the main POV! What do you think? :)
> 
> last note! if anyone ever wants to talk, and not just about fic, i have a  
> qq: 2835371826  
> and i recently got a Line account. My user ID is sadkidneystone
> 
> :)


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so heads up:  
> *This chapter is from Delilah's POV and fills in a couple of holes in regards to what the hell she's been up to so Julian and Josh aren't in it //that// much, but they're still very much part of the chapter  
> *The chapter deals with dysfluency very lightly, that is, I can't pretend to be an expert in the matter, so I don't go into detail regarding speech therapy
> 
> Anyway, yeah. This chapter primarily serves as a type of character study, and also sets up some plottish things for later.

Danger had said, when she visited Delilah in the hospital, that there would be things that she would have to get used to.

"I am machine," Danger said in cool, programmed voice, "But walking and interacting is not the same thing as watching."

She was right.

Delilah can't remember life before the bunker, can't remember every living at all –or breathing –or walking. But she can do it anyway. The doctors at S.H.I.E.L.D tell her that his is ninety-nine percent human flesh, one percent metal plates and wires that they cannot remove from her head without the risk of damaging her brain. "You're a walking super computer," they tell her, after they explain what a mutant is.

Delilah stares at them for a moment and blinks, asking the computers what they're saying. They hum, fans whirring softly and telling Delilah everything she needs to know about this new world outside of the F.O.H bunker. Delilah understands, then. "You don't… hear them," she says, trying to make sense of their differences.

The S.H.I. doctor looks from her computer to Delilah and then back again. "No," she says, "I don't hear it,"

So Delilah has the mind of a computer.  _Technopathy_ , her updated database informs her.

She's let out of S.H.I.E.L.D Medical quicker than expected when the experts find that she far healthier physically than they could imagine. They don't say anything about her mental health, and Delilah ignores the wary, muttered conversations about it.

On the way to Jean Grey's School, she reboots and rewrites her systems to ensure that the last of the F.O.H programming is gone, and she asks Codename Shadow Cat to give voice authorization to confirm her recalibrated loyalties.

Shadow Cat frowns as she parks the vehicle and says, "Delilah, I think you should focus on figuring out what you want to do, not what other people want from you. Pledge loyalty to yourself."

Delilah stares at her. The S.H.I.E.L.D profile indicates this woman is a strong leader, compassionate and intelligent. "Why?" Delilah says.

Shadow Cat blinks rapidly, not expecting the question. "Friends and family are important, Delilah, but you also need to be able to look out for yourself," she says, "Life is a compromise of balancing your wants and needs with the wants and needs of others. You're a bright kid. I think you'll figure it out."

Delilah just nods, and follows Shadow Cat into her new home.

* * *

There are two technopaths at Jean Grey's and both of them stay well away from Delilah, too unnerved by the way her mannerisms, which try as she might, she can't seem to perfect. Everything is a jumble when she tries to make words because it's been so long since she had to talk, and it's  _hard_.

Most of the days, Delilah sits in the back of the classrooms, listening quietly to things she already knows. Nobody is sure how old Delilah is, and she can't tell, either, because she really is only one percent non-human and so she doesn't have a manufacturing date recorded in her systems. In her brain. Brain, not system.

They think she might be twenty-five to thirty years old.

"Or a couple hundred years," says the small, gruff man who turns out to be Codename Wolverine.

"I… know you," Delilah says on the day she's summoned up to his office to meet him officially.

Wolverine is sitting behind a great, empty desk that is marked with several mysterious scorch marks, marker graffiti, and deep cuts in the wood. He stares at Delilah with a carefully closed of expression. "Oh yeah?" he says.

"You are in the F.O.H database… Threat level: high. Neutralize. Capture if possible." Delilah recites. She can see it in her sys –in her mind. A string of code that, when more closely viewed, offers up information on a James Howlett, inducted into the Weapon X Project in the 1960s and subsequently enhanced with an adamantium skeleton. Briefly killed in 2011. Resurrected in late 2013.

"Figures," Wolverine says after a moment, seeming—disappointed, according to the voice analysis Delilah quickly runs. He opens a drawer in his desk and shuffles through a folder of unorganized papers. "You need to sign this," He slides a packet of papers over to Delilah, along with a pen.

She takes the papers gingerly and scans the first pages. "All students must… sign this?"

"Our lawyer makes us. Says we'd get sued left an' right otherwise." He shrugs. "It just says ya understand the school is located on sentient grounds and that there's the likelihood of being victim to attention by hostile groups. Usually we get legal guardian and student signatures, but you're over eighteen…"

"The F.O.H," Delilah says.

"Huh? Yeah," Wolverine says, "Hostile groups like them."

Delilah signs the forms and slides them back.

* * *

"Hello." Delilah says.

The boy looks up from his breakfast with blue, expressionless eyes. "Hi," says Codename Elixir. He looks around the cafeteria, still rather empty in the early hour. "Did you want something?" He's sitting alone.

Delilah opens her mouth.  _I know your voice_. She closes it and shakes her head. Error. Retreat.

"You're Delilah, right?" he calls after her. Voice analysis… Reluctant? Error.

She stops. Turns. "Yes."

"You were  _there_ , weren't you? They used you, too." He's watching her. His voice is… different.

Delilah uploads his medical file. Retrograde amnesia. Oh. "I… was there." She confirms, and she desperately wants to leave. He doesn't remember. He doesn't know. "I…"  _I heard you. I listened. I tried. I'm—_

"Sorry," he says, "Sorry you had to be there, too." And then he looks back down, and Delilah leaves, and doesn't try talking to him again. She doesn't analyze why.

* * *

Error. File cannot be found.

Delilah knows that S.H.I.E.L.D needs the information –the coordinates, the records –but curiously, she does not have them, and over several days, she notices other files missing. She's losing data, an unforeseen and serious malfunction. "I do not understand," she tells an extension of Danger existing in her eponymous Danger Room. Danger understands, and Delilah's words flow freely because they are not spoken, merely transmitted. "There must be a virus. A Trojan. I cannot sense where the data is being taken to. I cannot recall it."

The holographic projection of Danger tilts her head to the side. "It is not a virus, child," she says, "An unfortunate malfunction, yes."

"What is it?" Delilah demands. She wants to cry out in anguish, to relieve the tense feeling in her chest.

Danger's eyes flicker such that the blue glow seems almost sympathetic, or perhaps, pitying. "It's human memory."

Humanity!  _That_  was her error! "Take me," Delilah urges, "Put me back in the machines –help me fix it, please"

-Danger reaches out, and the metal of her hands feels light on Delilah's shoulders. "The people who inhabit this school are flawed. Inherently so. Humans are weak and emotional creatures. They lack the discipline and order of the artificially intelligent, but if there is one thing I have been made to understand, it is that to be human, to be mutant as you are –it is not something that needs fixing."

* * *

Delilah repeats Danger's words to herself for days. She asks the computers about the Mutant Rights Movement and makes herself believe in humanity.

She finds herself wandering into a class led by Jono Starsmore, who stares at her with narrowed eyes and no mouth after the class ends and she's on her way out.

" _Yer a tad old fer school, aren't yer?_ " he says, despite this disability.

"I do not… have a…GED." Delilah stops and stares at him. "You are… telepathic?"

" _S'right_. _Gotter talk somehow._ "

Telepathy. An ability formerly possessed in some form by at least eleven percent of the mutant population, capable of manipulating the human mind. Capable of… "I can't speak."

He raises an eyebrow. " _Yer doin' fine at the mo'."_

"You can… unlock the…the ability. Can't you? Words. They don't," Delilah knows she's making a frustrated expression, can feel her lips twisting downward. "They won't… move. Flow."

There's an expression in Chamber's eyes that says he knows exactly who Delilah is. Of course he does. He's a teacher. He must know. He shakes his head. " _Wot yer askin'…I don't 'ave that kind of power._ "

Delilah feels a rush of disappointment. "I… okay." She turns to leave.

" _Look_ ," Chamber calls after her, " _Yer not broken, if that's wot yer thinkin'._ "

"Of course," She knows this, on a logical level.

" _There's speech therapy, if yer want ter beat yer speech impediment. It's manageable._ "

Speech therapy. Delilah considers this. Statistically high success rates. Acceptable. She nods.

" _'Ey, an' yer can drop by anytime. This class is more like a club, anyway."_

"Thank you," Delilah says quietly, and she feels herself smile.

* * *

At night, Delilah lies awake in her bed for hours. Sleeping is the strangest part. She's spent eternity in the tank, and now going back to the darkness seems unfathomable.

The mansion is quiet all around her, and, left to this silence, Delilah's mind wanders and replays memories so hazy they could be dreams. Sometimes the memory is unfamiliar, and Delilah checks her systems for the time-date stamp on the images. Sometimes they're there, sometimes they're not.

Delilah remembers voices, more than anything else, and in the empty night, she hears them.

* * *

_"Dunno if you're still there. Whoever you are… but I… God, please just_ help _me. This isn't_ right _."_

_Later._

_"I can't even remember how long it's been… they all think I'm dead, you know. Fuck. Think anyone's missing you?…Funny thing is, I never thought I'd be, like, one of those people who gets kidnapped when they're dead." There's a hollow laugh and a cough. "I'm going to die here, aren't I? Die for real. They're dissecting me. I don't know if I can heal everything. They're going to kill me. They're cutting me open and I'm going to die here…"_

* * *

_"Nobody's looking for me, are they?" There's laughter. The voice laughs a lot. Voice analysis… Error._

_"I wish I didn't remember dying. It was… it was awful. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move and he was –he was_ right  _there and I couldn't say anything. Julian looked so scared and I was so fucking sorry. What the hell, right? I was fucking dying and all I could think was how sorry I was for it. I wonder if that's how …how everyone else feels –when they die too early. If they're sorry."_

_The voice is quiet for a long time._

* * *

_Error. System_DiagnoseMalfunction() has stopped working. Errrrrr—_

_"Are you there?"_

_Why…_

_"_ Hello _?_ "

_Why wwwwwere you… sssor… sorry… for him?_

_"Christ. Can you hear me?"_

_Running System_DiagnoseMalfunction()_

_Scanning System_ProgramFiles 1 of 5,809,675,991…_

_"Hello?"_

_Scanning System_ProgramFiles 7,602 of 5,809,675,991…_

_Scanning System_ProgramFiles 84,329 of 5,809,675,991…_

_Scanning System_ProgramFiles 560,732 of 5,809,675,991…_

" _I was sorry because I loved him."_

_Scanning System_ProgramFiles 1,000,003,002 of 5,809,675,991…_

_"I was sorry because we could've been in love."_

_Scanning System_ProgramFiles 1,420,894,556 of 5,809,675,991…_

_"But I died. I don't even know how long it's been. Maybe he's over it. I dunno. We got trained to 'get over it', I guess. Half our friends died. Blown up by the same kind of sickos that are cutting me up. I just… I… I don't want him to forget me. I didn't want to forget anyone and I don't want him to forget me. I just… we fought. For so fucking long. I thought he hated me, you know? And he could be a fucking ass when he wanted but he… he's different now. Not with everything but. I dunno, Julian before would never have- he'd never think about it. He still tries to keep everyone away." A laugh. "I was trying to teach him different. We all were. It was working. Sometimes before –way before, before we ever –when I still thought he was weird, and I'd move out soon, I thought about it. Staying. I thought I could be happy with him. Even living in a dump. Left anyway. Pretty stupid. We could've had more time… but I guess everyone thinks that when they've died."_

_Error. System_DiagnoseMalfunction() has stopped working. Internal error detected._

_Authorize Run SystemRecalibration()?_

_…Julian._

_Laughter. Voice analysis detecting: 94% human signature 'surprise'_

_"Yeah. That's his name. You are listening sometimes, huh? I'll tell you about him, okay? You'd better remember Julian Keller, too. He's a fucking miracle."_

_Authorize Run SystemRecalibration()?_

_Manual authorization confirmed. Voice authorization required._

_"This is Gideon Sanders, Agent I.D F000sO. System is authorized to recalibrate."_

* * *

Delilah is appointed a speech therapist by S.H.I.E.L.D and soon after, a psychotherapist.

Mostly, they just want Delilah to talk, though the speech therapist, Dr. Andrews, is more inclined to do some talking herself. Delilah is up to date on the theoretical treatment of dysfluency, thought she suspects Dr. Andrews must be something of a mutant herself, because she turns these theories into working exercises. Delilah calculates the percent progress increase until Dr. Yang, the psychotherapists, suggests taking a break from running self-analyses and observing the affects this has on her ability to interact with others. Delilah strains to avoid running the diagnosis for this particular activity.

At the school, Delilah takes conscious effort to avoid acting eccentric as far as the societal definition goes.

"Good morning," Delilah makes sure to tell as many people as possible in an attempt to seem less avoidant.

"Do you think it will snow soon?" she says in general when she's seated herself at a table of people she knows only from the school's student database.

"Probably," someone offers politely, "It's already December."

* * *

In the third week of December, Delilah ventures back to Chamber's classroom.

" _Well look 'oo we 'ave 'ere_ ," he says, not unkindly. " _'Eard you've been keepin' yerself busy. Speech therapy?_ "

"Yes. I go… to the city often." Delilah responds, pleased with the only short stammer it takes.

Chamber just nods. " _Suppose it's all still exciting fer you._ " He says. " _The city an' all that. Life._ "

"I have…I have seen… pictures. Sat-satellite… imaging," She falters, and notices then that he's clearing out the drawers of his desk, putting everything into a box. "You are…"

" _Takin' a leave of absent as it were,_ " Chamber says smoothly, when she trails off. " _'Aven't been 'ome in years –can't exactly fly commercially with a face like mine, can I? But someone's offered a ride so I figure, why not?_ "

"Oh." Delilah wonders what the disappoint she feels means.

Chamber finishes cleaning out the drawers and straightens up. " _You 'aven't thought of figurin' out 'oo yer are, 'ave you?_ " he asks. He shrugs quickly. " _Well, I'd be interested, if I were you. Anyway. See you around, yeah? 'Appy 'olidays._ " He hoists the box of his things up against his hip and walks out, leaving Delilah alone in the room, his words echoing in her head, loud and clear.

* * *

The fact of the matter is that Delilah can't be sure her name is Delilah Carter. As an artificial intelligence name, D.E.L.I.L.A.H-7 never stood for anything as far as Delilah can tell. She faintly recalls some bored voices asking each other what the letters stood for –Data something? –and begins to feel an itch of curiosity regarding the matter.

She checks the mutant database S.H.I.E.L.D keeps and in doing so, stumbles over a Julian Keller and  _you'd better remember Julian Keller_  and the last time the voice had spoken—

 _Gasping for air, a rasping voice cuts through the silence, "Look I –fuck, I don't know if you're still there anymore. I can't –I don't know how much longer I can… I heard them. They want to try my brain next –like they're going to find something there. I don't know. God, I don't know. Please just –if you're still there –even a little bit. Help me. Delilah, please._ "

_Time date stamp 18:10 2013 Dec. 20._

_Error._

And Delilah remembers the next time, breaking out of the endless statements and queries and remembering –remembering 2012 Dec 20 and  _Help me_  and writing a program with these words. A single line of code. Writing it.  _Transmitting… Transmitting code… Time date stamp 5:34 2014 September 27 … Transmitting code._

_Code received by S.H.I.E.L.D satellite JARVISII._

* * *

A knock on the door. "Delilah? Are you in there?"

She sits upright, finds herself in her darkened room. Clears her throat. "Yes." It's a whisper. "Yes," she says, louder. She clambers to her feet and shuffles over to the door, opening it to find –searching database –Codename Blindfold standing there, leaning against a long, white stick. "Good afternoon, Delilah. You have been away for some time."

Delilah blinks. Date check. December twenty. No. That can't be right.

"You've been sleeping for several days," Blindfold said, "I thought I'd check on you. Are you hungry?"

Delilah clears her throat again and realizes, "Yes."

"Lunch is already over, but we can find you something else from the kitchens," Blindfold says, and then turns and moves swiftly down the hall.

Delilah follows quickly, still in a daze.

"So you remembered something." Blindfold says, when they step into the elevator. "It'll come in handy."

"It… it will?"

"Oh yes. Mostly to you, though." Blindfold leaves it at that.

* * *

Delilah hears it in her mind before she sees it. She hears the urgent hum of the machines in the school, the beeps and chimes of notifications and the soft swoosh of data being transmitted out into space. The air is so thick with the news, she begins to see the data escaping in coded lines through space.

Mutant contagion. Source unknown, two dead.

Delilah knows the source and she stands stock still in the middle of the hallway, lost in the systems –no, not lost. Searching. She gathers every bit and byte of information she can and sends everything to S.H.I.E.L.D. She titles the files  _ELIXIR VIRUS_  and once it's sent, she collapses to her knees, feeling emptier than she's ever remembered feeling in her life, and thinks, for once, she wouldn't even mind talking to Dr. Yang.

* * *

_He's a fucking miracle._

The young man who opens the door looks like a tragedy. He stares down at Delilah for a moment. Blinks. "Delilah," he says, "I didn't know you were here?"

"Hello Julian," Delilah says, and every word after than is a greater struggle than it's been in days. She wants to say everything, to tell him all the things that are circling around in her head, but the closest thing she manages is a cryptic, "I knew you," but it gets Julian's attention.

His voice is quiet, when he speaks, and there's forever a crease between his brows. When he asks about Joshua Foley, there's an odd look in his eye and Julian Keller is  _confusing_  and Delilah can't figure him out. The colloquialism he uses –"dated" –Delilah has to run it against a world database and for a single, infinite second, her systems are flooded with a related answer, the international definition of love. It's –it isn't something else. Strange and warm and beautiful in a terrifying way.

Love makes Delilah stutter, but she pushes through it. "Dated," she repeats. "A romantic and sometimes sexual involvement between" –but he cuts her off with a flash of panic crossing his features. And everything is puzzling once again.

There are other things Delilah is suddenly preoccupied with.  _Love_. What a strange concept, yet Delilah thinks she's …she has some vague sense of knowing it, once. There's a hazy memory –a  _memory_ , not archived data –regarding the matter and Delilah stands and babbles some excuse and she follows love out the door.

"Dr. Andrews," she exclaims, standing at the phone in the school lobby, "Dr. Andrews, I've thought of something. I think –I think it's a memory from –maybe it's from before. I think I –there's someone I left behind."

There's a silence on the other end and then, "What else, Delilah?"

"I don't know, I can't be certain," Delilah says, "It's hazy, it's all real fuzzy but I  _know_  there's somethin' there. I remember a shadow and it's like I can hear this  _voice_ , but it's kinda far off, ya know? Muffled."

Another silence. "Delilah," Dr. Andrews says, "This is wonderful news. Can you replay what you said to yourself?"

"What? Why?" Delilah plays it anyway and it almost takes her breath away. "I didn't… I didn't stammer," she whispers. "I sounded… normal,"

"Well, you know normal is relative," Dr. Andrews reminds her. "But I think this is a huge leap for you. Don't worry too much about it, but Delilah –I want you to talk to Dr. Yang about whatever you remember, no matter how vague."

"Yes," Delilah nods, "Yes, of course."

"You're improving at a very rapid rate," Dr. Andrews says. "I'm proud of you."

Delilah feels something flutter in her chest and a smile stretches across her lips. "Thank you," she says, and she almost cries. "Thank you."

* * *

She startles awake to screaming. It's a scream she knows, and she shoots out of bed and stumbles into the hall. "Josh?" she calls.

The noise is coming from down the hall, several rooms away, and the guest hall is mostly empty, which means Delilah is the only one who staggers toward the shouting, and she kicks down the door with an expert precision she doesn't have time to dwell on.

Activating artificial tapetum lucidum.

The screaming continues, raw and terrified, and Julian Keller is knelt beside the stock still form of Josh Foley. He looks up at Delilah and there's fear in his eyes. "Help him," he says. "Do  _something_ , Christ, please!"

_Help me. Help me. PLEASE, DELILAH._

Delilah is not Danger. She is far too human. She can't do a medical scan from where she stands, but she hears a hum of a machine –the big machine in the basement that she hasn't tried talking to before.  _Help him_.

And then there's a great screech of a reverb and Julian winces –he must have heard it too –and Delilah asks the machine to call for help –whoever that is. Dr. McCoy –S.H.I.E.L.D –anybody –and the machine is reluctant because it doesn't know her well, and she talks to it in a way the machine isn't used to, but there's a surge in the volume of the humming, and the machine agrees and it resolves to go one step further and investigate the matter.

 _Thank you, thank you_ Delilah almost sobs with relief and she turns to Julian and says, "they're coming."

But Julian has gone rigid, head tilted to one side, and then Delilah hears it, too, a smooth, woman's voice almost like Danger's, but more –more like her own.

_Didactic Entity, Lead Intelligent, Localized, Artificial Head System ver. 07, authorized by Dave Carter, Agent I.D F002Ic, speaking in conjunction with Cerebro-Danger Extension 4.2.2 Requesting medical assistance in Room 319. Sedative action recommended. Contact with S.H.I.E.L.D Medical HQ, Manhattan, recommended. Cerebro recommended de-authorization of F.O.H voice control function in D.E.L.I.L.A.H-7. De-authorization of D.E.L.I.L.A.H-sV7 selfDestruct() recommended. Repeat. Medical assistance requested._

* * *

Wolverine pulls Delilah sharply to the side after Josh is sedated and rushed out of the room.

"I heard the message," he growls, "What's this self-destruct program?"

"I –I," she shudders. "I don't know, I'm looking –I can't –I can't find it. I'm sorry, I don't know"

-Wolverine takes Delilah by the arm, but his grip is not so tight as she expects and he says, "Come with me. S.H.I.E.L.D's sending a quinjet over. Ya need to be sweeped again for triggers."

"But I…"  _I'm getting better_.  _This isn't fair_. Hot tears are welling up in her eyes, making her vision blurry. Delilah doesn't know what to do. "Please… I…"

Wolverine's eyes soften, icy blue gaze melting a little. "Danger is flying over from California. She'll meet ya there, soon." He hesitates, "We'll get ya sorted out," he says finally, and that's about as comforting as he's going to get.

"Will …Will Elixir be… okay?"

Wolverine huffs a small sigh. "We'll get him sorted out, too." He tugs her toward the stairs, and this time, Delilah follows, her heart pounding and her mind racing, searching desperately for the program that could end her.

* * *

_Vocal Archive Time Date Stamp 13:19 Jan 17 2011_

_"It's_ breathing _! I thought you said it was dead."_

_"Never mind that, get a sedative."_

_"What are we supposed to do with it now?"_

_"This isn't an obstacle, Dave –we can use this. Don't you understand? It will always heal itself afterwards."_

_"What's the objective, then?"_

_"It doesn't change."_

_"It can bring people back to_ life _"_

 _"-It's a_ mutant,  _Dave. Any healing it does is not a miracle. It's an infection, a disease in disguise. Don't forget that."_

_"Vaccinations are still a form of illness but they can still help. These genes can cure cancer, for Christ's sake, Gideon!"_

_"The objective_ doesn't change,  _Dave. If you can't remember why, maybe you ought to take a_ break _."_

_"…"_

_"Now. Get a sedative."_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Don’t try to figure out the weird timeline of this series, honestly. “Going, Going, Gone” takes place across 2009, and also takes place after Schism, so by that logic 2011 seems a good equivalent of 2014, which Logan dies in the comics. And writers are saying that he’s not going to be resurrected until (at least) after the writers change in 2016, so boom. Resurrected almost three years later. It occurs to me as I write this that I will probably have an aneurism when Logan is resurrected (because I firmly believe it will happen. Shush, just let me live my delusions.)
> 
> *Tapetum lucidum is a layer of eye tissue that allows animals like cats to see in the dark. Humans have poor night vision because we lack this layer of the eye.
> 
> So there you go!  
> Ummm.... I'm currently working on a much delayed sequel of another fic involving Jono Starsmore so I couldn't resist adding him, plus! I kept him as the teacher for the class I have privately dubbed the Sad Trash Class. Mostly because I have no idea what it's actually called.  
> Anyway, what do you think about the change in POV? I'll be back to Julian next chapter, and Delilah will probably be up to off screen shenanigans for one or two chapters. Oh man. How long is this fic going to be?? Who knows. I passed my original ending about 6 chapters ago.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uhh... Sorry for the wait? I took a short break to write another oneshot.
> 
> Also, because this chapter is a little longer and therefore more prone to mistakes, I guess I ought to just remind all of y'all that I don't have a beta, and that I can be really bad (cough impatient cough)at proofreading.

A man with blond hair and blue eyes bursts into the school in the early morning and is nearly taken out by the school's defense system before he yells, "Where's my brother?"

Piotr Rasputin steps out of his defensive stance, but doesn't return to flesh form right away. "You are Henry Foley?"

"Damn right," Henry says, and he's led quickly through the dimly lit halls and into an elevator. The sublevels are well lit with fluorescent light, and the medical center is empty except for one dark-haired young man and a great, furry blue… Beast. Henry's seen him in the news.

The kid has to be Josh's age, and he arguing loudly with Beast, Josh unconscious in the hospital bed behind him.

"…staying as long as he's here!"

"Don't be ridiculous, please, he won't be awake until at least morning…"

"I'm going to be here," the boy says stubbornly. "He deserves to have someone here for him."

"Julian," Beast says with a sigh.

'Julian' catches sight of Henry and Piotr in the doorway. "Who're you?" he says, squinting at Henry with eyes bloodshot from a lack of sleep and maybe something else.

"Henry," he says, thrown off by the sharpness of the question. "I'm Josh's older brother. I flew over as soon as I was notified…"

"Well you people definitely didn't make a show of coming over every other time he went into a coma," Julian snaps.

"Julian," Beast admonishes. He turns to Henry, "Mr. Keller is a little on edge, as you can see. It's good to meet you. I'm Hank McCoy, the resident physician for the time being," He holds out a great paw and shakes Henry's hand.

"Henry," he says again, "Ah…every other time…?"

Hank clears his throat. "Yes, ah, we did contact your parents in the last cases, even though they no longer possessed legal guardianship of Josh. I see they did not bother passing on the message." He adjusts his glasses with an air of thorough disapproval. "In any case, Josh is not in a coma as it stands now –merely sedated,"

"I shall go now," Piotr speaks up softly, excusing himself.

Julian has stalked over to a chair by Josh's bed in the meantime and he now crosses his arms, glaring at Henry, who makes a point of ignoring him as he approaches the bed as well.

"Why does he… look like that?"

He looks like he's been sprayed with metallic black paint and his hair falls on his forehead in white strands. Josh's expression is smooth, though, and there's an I.V in his arm. "Is he… what happened?"

"That's uncertain," Hank says, "There were no witnesses, but to put it simply, your brother suffered a mental break. As I said, he's been sedated, and we will be observing him until morning."

"But… why does he  _look_  like that?" Henry feels ridiculously useless, standing at the foot of Josh's bed.

"It's the omega phase of his mutation," Hank says. "As you may be aware, in Josh's beta state, he's capable of healing and growing cells; in this state he can only affect them negatively."

"Beta?"

"Gold skin," Julian snaps, impatient. "What he's supposed to look like,"

"Josh's omega phase is still very much part of his mutation," Hank says firmly, sounding like he's reminding Julian of something that's been said several times already. He waves Henry toward another chair by the bed, "I don't suppose you're here to sleep, either," he sighs. "Please feel welcome to wait here. Can I get you anything? Tea? Coffee?"

Henry shakes his head and drops onto the stool across from Julian, on the other side of the bed.

Hank retreats into an office connected to the hospital area, leaving them in a tense silence.

When Josh had been at the school as a teenager, Henry had at first ignored every single thing Josh had to say about it. There had mostly been complaints –emails talking about how weird everything was, and asking if Henry could talk to their parents and make them take Josh back home. Henry had eventually read the emails, but then they'd stopped coming and he'd been finishing up his work for his second degree –that was his excuse –and he didn't have time to initiate a conversation. Now, Henry can't recall any names Josh may have mentioned, never mind a 'Julian'.

"What did he mean be a mental break?" Henry asks eventually.

Julian regards him with hard, blue eyes, several shades darker than the Foleys'. His mouth is pressed into a tight line and he looks prepared to keep the answer to himself, but then he lets out a huff and looks away, shoulders drooping tiredly. "He couldn't see me," he says finally. "We were supposed to meet, but when I went to his room, he was on the floor, and he couldn't see me. He was somewhere else."

Henry stares. "Like… a hallucination?"

Julian shrugs, and seems to slouch further, as though he could curl in on himself that way. "Yeah. I don't know. He was terrified." He says the word with a small wince. "He couldn't hear me." He adds in a mutter, almost to himself.

"So you're –you were in his class? Before?" Henry says, still struggling to take in what Julian is saying. At the same time, he tries not to think about it too hard. He can't imagine what Josh must have gone through. He hadn't gone into it much, but Henry can guess. Damaged  _brain_  tissue. Jesus Christ.

"Yeah," Julian's glower has softened, and now he stares at some place on the feet pulled up to Josh's chest, a distant look in his eyes. "Different training squads, though."

"I'm sorry," Henry says, "You must have had it worse, when he …died,"

Julian's head snaps up, "Excuse me?"

"You…" Henry frowns, "You and the rest of your classmates. I made the …unfortunate decision to follow my parents and shun Josh. I'm so grateful he's forgiven me."

"His sixteen year old self forgives you," Julian says, eyes flashing angrily, "Because he only remembers being abandoned for a couple of months at most. It's been way longer than that."

It's the truth Henry's been trying to change, and it's the fact that he despises. He glares right back. "He's family. He knows we didn't talk but we're trying to –trying to connect again."

"You didn't even come to the funeral."

"I couldn't face it," Henry blurts out. Julian's barely said anything, but everything he does say comes with a dozen silent accusations, the  _where were you_ s and  _why didn't you do anything_ s that have been haunting Henry's subconscious. Now, he has to resist standing. This isn't a fight. He has to stand his ground, but he's not in the right, either. He just needs to  _explain_ , because he's  _got_  his goddamn excuses. "He's family and I… I shouldn't have…" But the explanation isn't coming through, and Julian just regards him, a strange kind of  _disappointment_  written in his expression.

"Then I guess you're lucky," Julian says, "That he doesn't know how long it took for you to realize it wasn't  _his_  fault he's a mutant."

"It's no one's fault," Henry insists. "My daughter's a mutant and she's not –there's nothing wrong with –mutants are people, too,"

Julian raises an eyebrow. "What do you know," he says dryly, "I guess people  _can_  learn." He turns away from Henry after that, shifts to stare at Josh's face.

Henry's head spins, thoughts a mixture of  _unfair_  and  _it's not like that_ , but finally,  _what's the point_? He notices then the dark circles under Julian's eyes, and the hollow way he watches Josh.

 _He was terrified_.

So Henry swallows any argument he might want to start, and he gazes upon his younger brother, and witnesses the consequence of abandonment, of undeserved captivity, of torture. He looks at Josh now and can only see how he has failed the kid he was supposed to be a role model for. He thinks of Lily –her bright smile, her glowing, yellow eyes, and he hopes he doesn't let her down. He hopes so hard it aches.

* * *

Sometime around five o'clock, Henry falls asleep, and wakes up with a sharp ache in the side of his neck.

The hospital room is lit with more light now, and Henry's first thought is to look to the bed, but there he finds Josh's still limp form. Across from him, Julian is asleep in his chair, head lolled back and arms crossed but—

Henry notices with a jolt of surprise, that, while Julian's arms are crossed, where Henry distinctly remembers there being hands, there are long healed over stumps, and on the edge of Josh's bed lies a pair of metal hands.

God. Josh being killed, and brought back and  _damaged brain tissue, mental breakdown_ and  _he was terrified_  and Christ, this kid Julian with no hands; the implications –no, the true meaning of these things all dawn over Henry at once. Hell, he knew the X-Men fought supervillains and tyrannical threats to the world's existence just like any other superhuman organization, but he hadn't really thought it  _through_.

 _They're soldiers_ , he thinks to himself.  _Kid soldiers, not that different from the men and women across seas_.  _They lose_.

Henry swallows hard and climbs to his feet.

Beyond the large hospital room is an office, and Hank McCoy is already awake and sitting at a desk covered in a papers and books. When Henry approaches the open door, he finds that the doctor is speaking aloud, seemingly to recording device, though Henry sees none.

"…possible coma state, the fifth officially recorded of this nature… memory recovery uncertain, though mental break suggests strenuous brain activity similar to that in past cases of mutant memory recovery via healing factor…"

Henry clears his throat a little, feeling a tad intrusive, and Hank glances over and smiles. "End recording," he says, and turns his rolling chair to face Henry. "Good morning, Henry," he says, "I was wondering how long you and Mr. Keller would be unconscious,"

"Speaking of, ah, unconscious," Henry says, "Josh…?"

"He's no longer sedated," Hank says, "So we just have to wait for him to wake up naturally."

"I'm sorry, you said something about a coma?" Henry says uncertainly. "Was that about Josh? Is he comatose?"

"If, when I check his vitals and brain activity, Josh is unresponsive to stimulus, I will have to pronounce him to be in a persistent vegetative state." Hank says, voice clinical, but expression sympathetic. "It's nearly lunch time. There's food upstairs, I can show you to the cafeteria."

"I think I saw it," Henry says, "Is there a phone around here? I seem to have left my cellphone… somewhere," He pats down his pockets, and comes up with only his wallet. It must after the morning classes by now, and Howie and Lily will be getting picked up to go home for lunch soon. He should call and check in… Oh jeez, and say what? 'Uncle Josh might be in a coma, I don't know how long I'm supposed to stay'?

"There's a telephone upstairs in the staff lounge," Hank offers. "The room across from the elevator."

"I'll find it," Henry says, "Thanks,"

When he wanders back into the main room, Julian's seat is empty, and he's nowhere to be seen. Henry pauses by Josh's bed. He's going to stay at least another day, he decides. Just to see if Josh wakes up in that time. "I'll be right back," he says to Josh's unconscious form, feeling a little silly for it.

He makes his way back up to the ground floor, where there is a number of teenagers milling about, most dressed in a sensible black-and-white uniform.

Henry gets directions to a bathroom where he quickly freshens up and makes a note to run out to town and get a couple of things he didn't think to bring in his haste. The staff lounge is occupied by a couple of tired looking –teachers, Henry assumes –and a woman he recognizes from news reports as Storm points out to him the phone, which turns out to be a very high tech piece of curved metal. Henry stares at it dubiously before Storm says, "It's voice activated, don't worry about it. Danger, turn on number pad," and numbers light up on one side of the scrap piece.

Henry calls into the office, and then calls home, and Miss Kristen is already there and puts Howie on, and then Lily. He smiles at Howie's babble –something about paint –and feels his heart positively soar when Lily comes on with a matter-of-fact, "Good afternoon, Daddy," and then proceeds to tell him about her morning and what she's eating for lunch. He listens to her and thinks,  _Thank God,_  because she's so free and alive, and she hasn't had to know the worst of anti-mutant sentiment. He prays she never does.

Then, Henry follows the smell of pasta to a cafeteria, where most of the student body turns out to have gone. Nobody gives him a second look, until he approaches a silver-skinned woman and asks, "Is it alright if I sit here?"

"Sure," she says, and then looks up from the book she's reading and gives a start. "Oh, hi," she regards him curiously as he sits down and finally says, "You wouldn't happen to be Josh Foley's brother, would you? Henry?"

"That's me," Henry says, "And you are?"

"Cessily Kincaid," she says quickly, "Guidance counselor here. I was at school here with Josh." She smiles. "Different training squads, though,"

"That's what the other guy said," Henry says, smiling a little. "Julian?"

Her polite smile falters. "Oh, yes. Julian and I were on the same squad. He's not  _still_  in the Med Lab, is he?"

"The hospital wing? Uh, no, I didn't see him before I came up." Henry says, "He said he was there when… it happened. He stayed all night."

Cessily catches on to the question he doesn't ask, the  _who_ is _Julian?_  "They were close," she says. "Julian was there when Josh died. I was, too," she adds quietly, looking away. "They'd been living together and, well, it was on the news. Julian was arrested as a suspect in the Angel Maker case a couple of years ago. Wasn't him, but."

"The serial killer in Chicago," Henry says, "I remember the Angel Maker. I didn't even know Josh lived in the city until he was dead."

Cessily clears her throats and occupies herself by taking a deep drink from a mug. "Anyway," she says, "Julian came back to New York after Josh died. It's been particularly difficult for him, so if he's being rude, well. He can be pretty rude." She sighs.

"You're handling it well," Henry observes.

"We have to a handle a lot of things," Cessily says, "And at least I can look at Josh coming back to us, and think it's a good thing,"

* * *

When Henry gets back to what is apparently the Med Lab, he hears voices as he rounds the corner.

There's more people standing around Josh's bedside now: a petite brunette with a prominent baby bump is conversing with Hank, an expression of concern drawn across her features. There's a pink-haired young man with bright clothes, as well, interjecting loudly and listening restlessly. What really draws Henry's attention is a huge, stone man, towering above even Hank. He's talking to Julian, who has returned to his seat, and even though he appears to be talking in a quiet voice, Henry can hear the low rumble of the sound from the doorway.

"…could just pop in and take a look for any memories, too," the pink-haired man is saying, "It's not like I'm going to fuck up something as routine as a look around."

"Henry," Hank says, seeing him approach, "Please meet our school's headmistress, Miss Kitty Rasputin-Pryde, and our resident telepathic expert, Quentin Quire."

"I'm Santo," the rock guy adds, looking over, "The gym teacher, basically."

"Henry,"

Hands are shaken and Kitty explains, "We've just been discussing your brother's immediate care. He's been unresponsive to stimulus, suggesting he may have slipped into a vegetative state. Quentin is suggesting a telepathic exploration of Josh's mind to discern the probability of him waking up soon."

"I'd also be checking a couple of other things," Quentin says, waving a hand dismissively, "There's, like, zero risk, and Keller's already signed off on it, so like, we're mostly telling you because you're family."

Kitty sighs.

"Keller?" Henry says,

"Me," Julian says.

"You?"

"I'm Josh's emergency contact. Or was. Before he died." Julian says. "You got a problem with Quire doing his thing?"

"No, I don't think… no." Henry says, a bit lost.

Kitty turns to the others, "We'll begin in a few minutes, if that's convenient, Quentin. Santo, I believe you have afternoon classes?"

He nods and pats Julian's shoulder heavily, "See you, dude," he says.

The group begins moving; Santo leaves, but the other four reposition themselves around the bed. Julian stands and nudges his chair toward Quentin, who sits as Hank brings over a laptop sitting on a rolling desk. Kitty gestures for Henry to stand with her some feet away from the bed.

"Unfortunately, Josh's powers exceeds his body's ability to keep up at times," she says in low voice, "I guess you know about his comas?"

"Vaguely," Henry says, watching Quentin scoot closer to Josh's bed with a queasy feeling in the pit of his stomach.

Hank clips something to Josh's finger that turns on a heart monitor standing blank by the bedside. "Alright," he tells Quentin, "Go ahead."

It's anticlimactic, the way Quentin closes his eyes. He doesn't even go limp, just sits very still, and the heart monitor is steady all the while.

Henry looks around, looking to Kitty and Julian for cues as to what he ought to be doing; Kitty merely looks on, a slight crease between her eyebrows and Julian is watching the heart monitor.

Suddenly, the room begins to flicker before Henry's eyes and he tries to blink a couple of times, wondering if he's suddenly begun to fall asleep. Far away, he hears someone say something, and then he hears it again with great clarity: "What the hell are we doing here, Quire?" And he blinks, and finds himself in a dimly lit hallway with cracking walls and patchy carpeting.

Quentin shrugs, "Figured I could use some reinforcement."

"Reinforcement?" Henry echoes.

"You're just looking around, Quire," Julian says sharply.

"No I'm not," he scoffs, beginning to make this way up the hall. "I took you people this far –we're going to dig Foley out of this mess." He's looking around and making a disgusted sort of face, "Whatever those whacko flatscans did –his mental levels are all collapsed in on each other,"

"You're going the wrong way," Julian says after a moment.

"What?" Quentin turns.

Julian nods in the other direction of the hall, toward a dead end where the hall light bulb is out. "He'd be over that way." He says.

"Do you know this place?" Henry gapes. He's still having trouble wrapping his head around the fact that he is apparently in Josh's  _mind,_  and his mind –at least the part that they're in –is a shady, rundown hallway of old door with paint peeling off them.

Julian doesn't respond, just silently makes his way down the hall, and it's watching Quentin and Julian moving ahead of him that he realizes they both look different than they had earlier; Quentin's bright, mismatched attire has been replaced with a dark suit and he looks a bit older than in real life. His hair is brown, the most noticeable difference, and is cropped all around in a normal cut.

Julian, on the other hand, has been dressed down, button-down green shirt replaced with a ratty gray t-shirt and pressed pants switched out with ripped jeans. He's younger, possibly teenage, and he –Henry swallows hard –he isn't an amputee. Briefly, Henry wonders what these representations mean, and what he must look like, but the thoughts are pushed from his mind as they reach a door at the end of the hall.

"We lived here," Julian says, a distant look in his eyes. He reaches for the door, and it creaks when it opens.

Inside, the apartment room is warmly lit, and is not as shabby as the hallway would suggest. Henry glimpses a mattress pushed into a corner of the room and sees two doors leading off from the main room, which is an open kitchen and connected living area. A white mini-fridge sits rather conspicuously on the ground in the kitchen, and there's an open bag of chips on the counter by the kitchen sink. Otherwise, the apartment is unfurnished.

"Jesus fuck," Quentin comments, looking around with distaste.

Julian is silent as he peers around.

"He's not here," Henry observes.

"Josh?" Julian calls.

There's no response.

"We'll check the rooms," Quentin says, adding confidently, "He's around here, somewhere," He heads toward the closest door and opens it, but the room beyond this door is nonexistent; the door opens onto a wall.

Henry heads for the other door and hears Julian say, "That's just the bathroom, he's not…"

But when Henry opens the door, there is no bathroom, either. Instead, the three of them are faced with yet another dingy hallway, which is cut off half-way by a clean, if empty, café room.

Quentin clicks his head, muttering something once again about collapsed mind levels. "Alright," he says more loudly, "Watch your step where the rooms change. No point screwing up the architecture even more." He stomps ahead of them and Henry falls into step with Julian.

"Do you know this place, too?"

Julian glances around as they exit the hall and step into the cafe. "It's a Starbucks in the San Franciscan Mutant District," he shrugs. "I used to work here." He offers no explanation on its significance, but his shoulders are tense, and Henry decides not to ask.

Quentin, meanwhile, heads for the doors of the room, which, although glass, is curiously white on the other side. When he opens them, Henry mostly expects for there to be a pouring of white light into the room, but instead, there is a sunny street outside.

"Is this actually San Francisco?" Henry says, puzzled.

"This isn't the right street," Julian says "This is the pier at…" he trails off, recognition softening his features and he heads away wordlessly, crossing a busy street of passing cars that Henry finds difficult to focus on when he tries to look at them more closely -even to see what color they are.

Julian crosses to the other side with little trouble from the cars, which all narrowly miss him but which, without a doubt in Henry's mind, would never have hit him anyway.

Quentin seems just as unbothered as he crosses the road, but Henry follows along nervously, not calmed until they're on the boardwalk of the pier.

Overhead, the sun has begun to set, or is perhaps, in a perpetual state of setting, and the orange sun casts long shadows over the planks on the boardwalk, but only the unmoving pillars and railings seem to be able to cast these shadows. Henry walks along, a ghost in Josh's head.

Julian seems impossibly far ahead, and as he approaches a bench at the end of the boardwalk, Henry sees a golden figure, white hair bright against sea that stretches before him. It's Josh, Henry realises with a start, and he tries to hurry forward -to no avail. No matter how quickly he walks, the end of the pier remains just as far off.

"The subconscious is keeping us away," Quentin says, when Henry turns to him, a question ready on his tongue. "And there's no point fighting it if it's not bad." He's looking on intently, though, and Henry stops walking and merely watches also.

Julian sits down on the bench, his back to Quentin and Henry, who notices suddenly that the white noise of lapping waves and seagulls and distant chatter has faded away. He can hear Julian clearly, despite the distance.

"Hey,"

Josh sounds surprised, "Hey,"

There's nothing, then: "You're in a coma,"

"Figured it was something like that."

"We came to get you out of it,"

"Well, that's a first, huh? So, what, I'm supposed to believe Julian miraculously figured out I wasn't dead? After all this time? What, did they exhume me for no reason and find out no one was in the fucking coffin?"

"We did find you," Julian says quietly. "I'm sorry, we didn't -we didn't look for you. Christ, I'm sorry."

"I'm supposed to believe that?" Josh snorts, "He wouldn't say that."

"Fuck, Josh, I  _am_  fucking sorry. I wouldn't be sorry for fucking leaving you? In that goddamn bunker? Jesus Christ, I could've opened the damn casket at the funeral and then we would've -we could've found you sooner. Before they even…"

"Stop." Josh's voice is a whisper, low and angry. "Stop it. I don't wanna hear it, okay? Just leave me alone, and stop coming  _back_. I'll go even farther, if you do, and then you  _really_  won't find me, got it?" He springs to his feet, but Henry sees Julian reach out and grab him by the wrist.

"Please," Julian says, "He -you don't remember,"

Henry can't see what Josh's face is doing, but he's stopped struggling to get his arm away and he's silent for a long time. "You… your…"

"Yeah, well. I have them in my dreams sometime, too."

"Julian?"

Julian nods. "I'm sorry," he blurts out once more.

"I'm… you found me?" Josh says, the hope in his voice so clear it tugs at something in Henry's chest. "How?"

"Delilah, I think," Julian says, "S.H.I.E.L.D got some kind of...tip-off."

Josh laughs, but it sounds strangled. "Why am I -why haven't I woken up? Why am I still  _here_?"

"You woke up," Julian says, "You thought you were sixteen. He doesn't -he doesn't know."

"Sixteen," Josh repeats blankly.

"Quire's here. To bring you back."

Josh turns and suddenly he's just a couple of feet away. "Henry?"

"And Quentin," Quentin says pointedly, waving his hands around. "Just the guy who's making this all possible, but whatever, I guess,"

"Hi, Josh," Henry says, swallowing hard.

There's something about this Josh, who has the same features that Henry has seen recently, but who also has glowing, gold skin. This Josh holds himself differently -doesn't slouch or look awkward standing around. The contrast is only apparent now: somehow, this Josh looks more comfortable in his own skin.

Josh tilts his head ever so slightly and stares at Henry curiosity in his eyes and it's always bemused Henry -the way people like Lily and Josh, with their blank, solid colored eyes, can still be expressive like that. "You came, too?"

"I got on a plane as soon as I was called," Henry says weakly, but suddenly his explanations and justifications feel pointless, and resentment bubbles up in his chest. Why did he think he could give reason to his actions? How could he stand to say any of this to Josh's face? Suddenly, a deep wave of shame washes over him, and Henry looks away, unable to meet Josh's eye. He's surprised, then, when he hears Josh say, "Thank you,"

Josh is still watching Henry when he looks up again. "It's good to see you," he says quietly. He holds Henry's gaze, just staring with sort of focused intensity that Henry can't remember him ever possessing before.

"If we're finished with the grand reunion," Quentin says loudly, "I saw we cut this trip short and head back out,"

"Can I go with you?" Josh says, "Just like that?"

"Oh, well, no," Quentin says, and everyone turns to stare at him. He shrugs, "There's a reason you haven't been able to find your way out of here," he says, "We can get out of here because your mind isn't trying to trap us. Think of this place like a building –a prison. It's collapsed all around you –and it let the wrong prisoner out."

Josh makes a face. "That's a dumb analogy,"

"No, it makes perfect sense," Quentin says indignantly, "C'mon, look, Josh here's been dicking around on the inside, all lost and shit, meanwhile, there's an older version, usually kept away with the other Joshes, who's crawled to surface –the control towers, you could say."

"You mean the guard towers?"

"What?"

"Prison analogy," Josh says, "There would be guard towers, not control towers. That's an airport."

Quentin's eyebrows shoot up, and for the first time, Henry sees something like amusement flickers across Julian's face. "Are you really taking the time to sass me?" Quentin sputters, incredulous. "Jesus Christ, I should just leave you in here,"

"Don't you dare," Henry and Julian say at once.

Henry glances over, surprised at the malice in Julian's voice, but Julian is glaring at Quentin, who only rolls his eyes.

"No one can take a joke here, huh?" Quentin mutters. "Fine, let's go."

"Where?" Josh says, expression falling. "There's always a dead end. I can't –I just walk in circles."

"There's always a hole," Quentin says, "We'll just walk until we find it."

"Just walk until we find it?" Julian repeats, incredulous, "That's the plan?"

"Hey, when I'm in someone's mind, it's usually not to do… reconstructive work. At least not on  _this_  level." Quentin says, looking around again with a scowl. "I mean, sure, we can try a couple of leads. Is there anywhere you might go that's significant to you?"

Josh doesn't say anything for a while, but a blank expression slides over his face, and Henry is certain he knows just the place.

"Josh?" Julian says quietly. He raises a hand as if to place it on Josh's shoulder, but then appears to think better of it, and drops it once more.

"Yeah," Josh says finally. "I know a place. I've been… avoiding it."

"Avoiding it?" Quentin says, intrigued and unaware of the mood that has settled over the others, "That's probably the place, then. Lead the way,"

Josh turns on his heel and heads back toward the end of the pier, and as Henry begins to follow him, he notices the pier fade away, the scenery melting into a darkness that envelops them. He wants to stop walking, to turn around and ask Quentin what's happening, but something tells him to keep going, and so he does, moving through nothing for minutes –hours –hell, maybe even days. He can't tell. And there's no one or sound. Not even a whisper of a breeze.

Eventually, Henry begins to see a light ahead of him, dim and red, and approaching quickly, until Henry takes another step forward and he's in a new room. It's lit only by dark red lights and the green glows of empty tanks lining the walls. It looks like some sort of stone basement, and Henry looks around for Josh, who was surely walking in front of him, but he sees no one.

A voice behind him makes him jump.

"What the hell is this place?" Quentin grumbles.

"The bunker," Julian says, his features twisted into wide-eyed horror, visible even in the poor lighting. "It's the bunker. Josh?" he calls, running to the center of the room and whirling on the spot. "Where is he?" he says urgently, "He was right in front of us."

"He has to be around here somewhere," Quentin assures, "Some version of him, anyway."

Julian races ahead of them, down a narrow hall, shouting for Josh all the while, and Henry jogs to catch up. The bunker –whatever this place is –it gives him a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach, even empty as it is. There has to have been things in the tanks at one point, and when they pass a room with an operating table and racks and racks of odd metal tools… Henry doesn't even want to think about it.

"Josh," Julian says, stopping in this room as Henry is about to continue to the next.

Julian approaches a drawn curtain at one end of the room and throws it to the side, and –oh God, oh Lord –Josh is on the table there, staring blankly at the ceiling. His skin is all dark like Henry had seen him on the outside.

He's not injured anywhere Henry can see, but it takes him a moment of Julian shaking him by the shoulders before he responds, looking over slowly and blinking just as lethargically. "…Keller?" he murmurs, confused. "You…"

"We're getting you out, okay?" Julian says. He looks up, "Quire! Get over here," he shouts, and then turns his attention back to Josh. "This isn't real, okay? We're –you're in a coma. Come on, get up," he makes a movement to pull Josh up, but he resists, shaking his head jerkily and moaning, "No, no, no, you can't,"

"They can't hurt you, Josh, come on," Julian says. "Come  _on_!"

"Keller."

Henry looks over to where Quentin has approached and is standing with another Josh who is flesh-toned, and smaller –younger.

"Help me get him up," Julian says, and there's a wild look in his eyes –or rather, wild ruin, Henry decides. He looks like he could die, trying to get Josh out of this…place. He doesn't even seem to register the way the Josh on the table is trying to push him away.

The younger Josh approaches and looks down at the operation table. "So that's what happened to me," he says eventually. "You wanna let  _this_  guy out?"

"He's you," Julian insists, "The right one," His voice breaks.

"No he's not," the young Josh says firmly. "He doesn't know anything. Just pain and suffering and death."

"He can't go with us," a new voice says.

Henry looks up and now the Josh from the pier is standing in the room also, looking down at the man on the table with pity. "I don't… I don't want us to have to…"

"You have to," Julian says weakly, staring at the golden-skinned Josh. "You need to,"

Unexpectedly, a small smile flits across Josh's mouth. His expression softens. "I'll always remember, Julian," he says. "I just don't want the pain anymore."

"I'll stay here with him," the young Josh says quietly.

Henry glances over to Quentin, utterly lost, and Quentin is staring back at him, looking thoughtful, and suddenly jerks his head toward the door.

"Hold on a second," Henry says, but then he blinks, and he finds himself under the artificial lighting of the Med Lab. He stumbles a little, feeling off balanced and he feels someone grab his arm, steadying him.

"What happened?" Kitty demands.

Henry looks around, discombobulated, and realizes with outrage, "He threw me out! There was –we were in a room. I don't know what they were all going on about but I – _something_  was happening –about to happen –and Quentin threw me out," he sputters.

"Quentin should not have taken you and Julian in. That's was  _not_  the plan." Kitty says, frowning.

Henry looks around, and notices that Hank is still monitoring Josh's heartbeat, and that both Julian and Quentin are still … out of it. "What's happening?"

"Nothing," Kitty said, "As has been happening for the past half hour,"

" _Half hour_?" It had to be two hours at  _least_.

Kitty glances over at that bed, "Time passes differently on the astral plane." She says with a frustrated huff. "Sometimes it goes by quicker more slower than real time. If thirty minutes seems much longer than you were in there, though, you might want to get comfortable. These telepathic  _probes_  have been known to take hour—"

At that moment, the heart monitor's steady beeps turn frantic, Josh's heartbeat speeding up rapidly, though over on the bed, he doesn't move an inch.

"What's going on?" Henry demands, "What's happening?"

"Hank?" Kitty says, alarm evident in her voice as Josh's heart rate climbs.

"There's nothing we can do," he says tightly, his mouth drawn in a deep frown, "This is why telepathy is not"

-But just then, there's a great gasp and both Quentin and Julian startled out of their trance-like states, breathing hard. Quentin jerks back in his chair so hard that he topples backward and he's still scrambling back to his feet as he says loudly, "Jesus H. fucking  _Christ_!"

Julian darts forward in the meantime, leaning over Josh's bedside and watching him closely. "Is he going to wake up?" he asks Quentin, "He went through the gate. That means he's going to wake up, right?"

Quentin rubs his neck and says grouchily, "More or less. Although, I wouldn't really count on it being soon –or not," he adds, when on the bed, Josh begins to stir.

Henry moves closer and observes the gold blooming across Josh's skin from the center of his chest. It moves like water soaking up paper, creeping along Josh's skin in blotches until it's all filled in with gold and Josh, heart now beating steadily, opens his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I know what you’re thinking: fuck you, cliff hanger!! But also. Slow build is slow, need I remind you.  
> *I apologize for all these rampant OCs… but ya know. Sorry not sorry.  
> *Um, I really like writing mental maze adventures, actually. It’s abstract and kind of absurdist and I love it. What a trip. Some stuff about mind level hierarchy/architecture were influenced by the movie “Inception”, of course, so don’t be surprised if it all sounded a bit familiar in a very vague way.
> 
> ALRIGHT. So that happened. I've recently been thinking about my future with fic writing, which had led to me think about the end of this series. Currently my plans are this in regards to X-Men fic writing:  
> -Wrap up Stagnation by Chapter 20 (so, don't worry. At least eight chapters left.)  
> -Fucking finish the second (and final) chapter of my Five Kisses fic  
> -Finish the second (and final) chapter/sequel (haven't decided out to post it yet) of Under the Stars  
> -Begin a new multichapter fic based on the Bobby Drake orgins au that I've been harping on about on my ff.net profile for three years now. I have the draft, but a recent message from a hopeful JP/Bobby shipper has inspired me to begin taking on that monster --probably sometime this summer.  
> -This will mean that I would be putting the Steve/Bucky au fic I've been developing on hold so yeah.
> 
> This probably means nothing to anyone who's reading this fic?? because you'd really have to have been keeping up with me on ff.net... back when I still used it actively.
> 
> Anyway, the next Stagnation update might be a little later again. AP exams coming up this week so I won't start on ch. 13 right away. 
> 
> Please review with thoughts/comments/questions/etc.! :D


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNINGS FOR THIS CHAPTER: There is some moderate descriptions of/references to gore and torture! If this is really not your cup of tea (it's not really mine either  
> -_-'), just scroll past any italicized chunks of writing, as so those are flashback scenes that include gore/torture.
> 
> The plot of this chapter may seem a little disconnected in an attempt to portray Josh's state of mind. It's MOSTLY (lmao) intentionally disconnected and abrupt in scene changes.

_"Josh,"_

_"I –I can't"_

_-Darkness closing in fast and he's disappearing— no –no –he isn't healing, why isn't he healing, no he can't be dying he can't lose this, not now— and there's a coldness chilling him to the core—_

 

* * *

 

 

The first thing Josh notices is the great emptiness around him –the unshakable sense that he is alone in a vast nothingness –and the silence that saturates the air. It's well lit, which he hadn't been expecting. Surely, the after-life wouldn't be so cliché.

 

"…let it take a moment to come back to him,"

"Are you sure he's not still sedated?"

"What's wrong with him?"

 

The voices are distant, muffled through a wall of Josh's own grogginess, and he blinks rapidly against the light, which, coming into focus, hurts his eyes in its brightness. He closes them again and  _Christ_ , but he's  _alive_  isn't he, he's—

 

 

 

_"No! Wash it, goddamit"_

_"-it'll right itself"_

_"-no unnecessary messes. Wash the fucking costotome and put that back. We're not working on that"_

_"-I'll just leave it out, then"_

_"-idiot! It can't_ regrow _subconsciously, it only_ repairs  _subconsciously_ ,"

_"Alright, alright, I'm putting it ba –Gideon, the sedative is wearing off,"_

 

 

 

Josh's eyes fly open.

Bright light. White ceiling. No wires no tubes no  _no no—_

 

 

_"Where did you send him?"_

_"Back out. Let's go."_

 

 

Dark ceiling. Crack in the concrete, long and thin like a bone fracture, right above him. Focus on the line, focus on the line.  _Focus on the line_!

_"Dammit –it's burning off the"_

_"-Healing and burning off the"_

_"-Get the sedative—"_

Heart speeding up –a noise –a beeping, far away, recording the evidence of life still in him, still pushing him above the dark waves that threaten to swallow him at every turn— the line! Focus on the line, don't don't don't – _stop –please—_

_"Hold it down!"_

 

Dark ceiling. Crack like a fracture line, like a life line. Focus on the line. Don't think, don't feel. Focus on the line.  _Focus on the li—_

 

 

_"Can you be sure this will work?"_

_"Almost,"_

_"Almost?"_

_"Nothing with the psyche is ever set in stone, Keller."_

_"It's going to be alright. See you on the other side?"_

 

Eyes open, white ceiling, bright light—

"Can you hear me?"

 

 

_Focus on the—_

 

 

"Hank?" Josh croaks.

The familiar, blue, bespectacled face comes into focus, and Hank smiles faintly. "Welcome back," he says. "Can you tell me your name?"

Josh groans, scrubbing a hand over his eyes as he becomes painfully aware of a dull ache behind him eyes. "Joshua William Foley," he mutters. "Age twenty-one, born in Queens, New York, educated in New Salem Center. Do I need to go through the entire damn procedure?" He sits up, swinging his legs off the side of the hospitable bed and waiting for the short spell of dizziness to end before he looks around.

He sees the varying looks of apprehension and concern on the faces of those surrounding him, and a deep, unsettling guilt blooms in his chest. "Uh… what'd I miss?" he says uneasily.

* * *

Julian stammers mid-sentence when Josh reaches out and takes one of his hands, picking it up and holds it between his two hands.

They're seated in a small examination room off the Med Lab, crossed legged and feet apart. Josh doesn't know why they're feet apart exactly, but he can guess. "Go on," he says, "We were at the gates of the guard tower," he smiles encouragingly, but even he can feel how strained it is.

Julian stares at his stolen gauntlet for a moment and says, "That's about it. You went in and Quentin took us out. You didn't fully wake up for another half hour."

"The X-Virus," Josh says after a moment, "It's mine, isn't it?"

The small flinch that goes through Julian's body is enough of an answer.

"That's a good thing," he says quietly, "If it's mine, I can help Laura and S.H.I.E.L.D find it. Every living thing has a bio-signature, Julian. Everything's easier now. It's gonna be fine," He pats the metal hand and holds it back out to Julian, who takes it, locking it back in place.

Julian stares at him with an odd expression, "So you… you remember everything except what happened after you died?"

"Yeah, dude," Josh says. "Police station, hotel, Darren, bleeding out on the"

"-I know," Julian says sharply, and Josh feels a pang of regret. Too blasé, fuck. "I know. I was there, remember?"

"I remember," Josh reassures. He stares at Julian, with his shifting eyes, unable to focus. "I never wanted to be one of those people who died and then came back," he says after a while. "Death is… it should be permanent."

Now Julian's gaze snaps to Josh's face, and their eyes meet, firm opposition blazing in the blue of Julian's irises. "It wasn't your time," he says fiercely.

Something in him snaps, because Josh doesn't quite understand this –this space between them. It's not his to understand, because it's not a space that Josh remembers existing, so he kisses Julian, surging forward and cupping his face in both hands. Josh kisses Julian slowly, forcing his mouth open, running his tongue along his lower lip. He feels Julian start to react, start to melt into the kiss like he's  _fucking supposed to_  and one hand ghosts along the small of Josh's back. For a moment, it's all exactly right and familiar.

Then Julian startles, pulling away with a surprised expression.

"I'm here now," Josh reminds him firmly. "I'm here," he repeats.

Julian swallows hard and nods, seeming dazed. "No shit," he says, with a small laugh. The levity of the statement is lost when his voice breaks and he doesn't resist when Josh reaches out and pulls him closer. He wraps his arms around Josh's waist and buries his face in the crook of his neck, a deep exhale shuddering through him.

They are silent, wrapped around each other in the small, poorly lit room, and Josh runs a hand through Julian's hair, which is cropped shorter than he remembers, and with a sinking feeling he thinks  _I did this_.

* * *

_…Sea of bodies, limp and twisted, as far the eye can see, quickly turning to ash, quickly—_

_He turns away and he sees himself, skin growing darker and darker—_

_Far away and very close by, somebody begins to scream. The sea of ash overflows and spills onto the ground at his feet and when he looks up, he is dying and his skin is inky black._

* * *

"Sh, sh, come on, it's okay,"

The dark doesn't go away when he opens his eyes and he thrashes against the force holding on to him.

"Alright, I'm sorry. Josh, you're awake, okay? You're safe."

The room comes into focus as Josh's eyes adjust to the dark. He sees the outline of Julian sitting on the edge of his bed. Behind him, the bedroom door is open and the hallway is faintly lit from a yellow light in another room.

"You're on the third floor of Jean Grey School, New Salem Center, New York. The year is"

"-I remember," Josh whispers, sitting up and rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. "Sorry."

"It's fine," Julian says, keeping his distance. "Bad dream?"

"Yeah. I must've been loud." He realizes.

"I couldn't sleep anyway," Julian says.

 

 

- _Scorching him, peeling him apart, and in the silences, in the pauses, blood trickles off his sides and pools on the table under him, sticking and drying to his back—_

 

 

He clears his throat, "What time is it?" he asks.

"Almost four."

Josh sighs and stands. "I'm going to…" he trails off. He doesn't have anything to do. "I'm going to…"

* * *

… _Thin line in a concrete ceiling illuminated like the rest of the room with the light over the operation table. He bites down on his tongue and is very, very still, waiting. His fists are clenched where they're restrained down by metal cuffs and he can taste a sudden pang of copper, which means he must have –oh yes, his mouth is filling rapidly with blood and there's more shouting._

_Something else entering his bloodstream, feeling foreign for a moment before his body accepts it gladly. The white-hot agony begins to subside, but he doesn't look away from the line in the stone about him until his eyelids droop shut involuntarily._

* * *

Julian slides one of the mugs across the table. "Extra marshmallows, courtesy of Cess," he says.

Josh smiles halfheartedly, and it slides away quickly as the silence sets in between them.

They're sitting on the floor of Julian's room, a low coffee table acting as their table and it might be mid-morning, but Josh can't quite tell. It's been gray skies for hours.

Julian's room isn't very lived in, and it's mentioned that it's because Julian doesn't actually live at the school, but visits often enough to have a designated guest room. There's a distinct smell of peppermint and cigarette smoke permeating the room, but Josh doesn't comment on it.

As he sips quietly on the hot chocolate, Josh watches Julian over the rip of his mug.

Julian looks bone-tired, dark circles under his eyes and hair mussed from Julian running his hands through it. He's wearing a wrinkled, days old shirt, and there's something particularly subdued in the way he's slouched over the table with a mug of coffee. There's a small scowl in his expression.

"Headache?" Josh says finally.

"Yeah," he sighs. "It was worse when I tried quitting cold turkey. Smoking," he adds for explanation.

"Smoking,"

"Helps with stress," Julian says shortly. "At work, you know."

"I can… yeah. Do you want me to…" Josh trails off, uncertain, which is odd because he's fairly sure that he wouldn't have  _asked_  before. He would have been able to just  _know_. "I could help." He says as an offer.

"No, it's... I wanted to do it on my own,"

The silence that falls between them again is unbearable. "What are you thinking?" Josh says, and if Julian can hear the tinge of desperation in his voice, Josh doesn't care.

"I don't know what to say," Julian admits, "I thought I'd be… I thought it might be better." He says vaguely. He shakes his head, "I guess I'm acting like a dick. You're… you couldn't have known."

"Are you glad I'm back, at least?"

"Yes," Julian says at once, and something about the automatic way he says it makes Josh's heart sink.

With a nearly hysterical feeling, he realizes Julian has  _fucking moved on_. He doesn't know what to do with a Josh four years in the past, maybe even less than he knows what to do with a teenage Josh. He feels like laughing. He's died and come back and come back again, but it's too fucking late.  _Classic_ , he thinks, and suddenly he wants nothing more than to get out of the room. He stands, perhaps too abruptly, judging by the way Julian startles. "You look like shit, man," Josh says. "You should sleep. I'm gonna check in with Hank about something. See you later?"

Julian nods slowly, rising to his feet as well. "I'll walk you out,"

"Yeah, okay," Josh realizes he might be speaking at a volume slightly above normal, but at this point all he can hear is the blood pumping in his ear and the—

 

 

 

_-High pitched whirring of blades and a tube sucking in air and excess blood. He can feel it in, in a distant, painless way: the way his skin is tugged aside, the metal tools poking against his organs… The wire speculum keeps his eyes open and the white light overhead is harsh and then there is no light and still there is no pain but he can feel the thin tips of the dissecting forceps edging particularly close to his optic nerves._

_"…Just take that one out, get a sample. Put it back later."_

_"You said…"_

_"Jesus Christ, Dave. It's not a necessary organ –fuck, look what you made me do…"_

_The sucking sound stops for a moment and a man sighs exasperatedly. Then it begins again, a wide tube sucking in air and blood indiscriminately, and Josh can feel the missed droplets slide off the side of his face and trickle into his hairline like tears._

 

 

 

"…but if you ever want to visit, Lily and Howie would love to see you again. Just give me a call. Joey mentioned he might fly back around New Years, so maybe we'll have a family get together."

Josh blinks and smiles. "Sounds good," he says.

Henry smiles, too. "I guess we need to catch up all over again," he says, a little sheepish.

"The upside is I get to meet my niece and nephew all over again," Josh says, which makes Henry chuckle. He's easy to talk to, Josh finds. Henry expects pleasantries. He's the type to take Josh's word for it when he says he feels fine, because that's what he hopes Josh will say.

Henry pauses when they reach the front door and turns, "Look," he says, "I haven't always been here for you. I know that, and I really regret that it took so long for me to, I dunno, get with the program. But I mean it Josh," Here he places a firm hand on Josh's shoulder, peering down at him. "Call, okay? If you've got any problem I can help with, or if you just want to talk.

Josh swallows. "Sure," he nods.

Henry grins, "Merry Christmas, then, huh?" He opens the door, and a great gust of snowy wind sweeps into the front hall. A taxi's headlights light up the night outside. "It's so good to see you… you," Henry says. "Bet your friends are ecstatic,"

"Yeah, it's a little weird right now, but I think it'll settle," Josh says, speaking from a place he doesn't quite believe and doesn't

"I imagine so," Henry grabs Josh in a brief, one-armed hug, "Stay safe," he says.

"Call when you get home," Josh says, which makes Henry grin as he turns to go.

He yells his goodbye as he runs down the front steps to the cab, and Josh forces the door shut after he sees the taxi begin to pull away. He turns around, and Ruth has inexplicably manifested not two feet in front of him. "Hey," he says with surprise.

"Will you walk me back to my room?" she says mildly. "I seem to have lost the way."

He blinks, taken aback. "Sure," he says, "Where is it?"

"Second floor, right, left, left, seventh door on the right." she says, smiling and reaching out for his arm.

"When did you, uh…"

"It's a long story," she says, waving her hand dismissively as they make their way toward the staircase. "Some mind games with my brother and poof! She's coherent again."

"I didn't know you had a brother," Josh says.

"I don't."

"Ah," He lets it drop for a different question, "So, did you want to tell me something?" He knows Ruth is more than capable of finding her own room, and has probably memorized the layout of the school.

Ruth sighs. "I was trying to be subtle,"

"Why?"

She shrugs, letting go of his arm. "People like it,"

"Your brand of subtlety puts me on edge," Josh says. "What's up?"

"I wanted to say I don't think you should go."

"Go where?"

She presses her lips into a thin line for a moment. "Anywhere," she says finally. "You need time to adjust."

"Who said I was going somewhere?"

"We'll see,"

Josh stares at her. "Ruth, did you see something happen?" he asks.

"No," she says. "No," she repeats insistently. "I just have a feeling. And you really should rest. You've been back less than four days"

"-Did you says four days?" He interjects.

"Yes."

Four days. Four days? He thinks back, tries to remember whether or not he

 

 

 

_-is alive? Somehow, but… Not in a coffin, no. He becomes distinctly aware of the fact the he is on a table, which is cold metal underneath him and there's -oh God -there's a fucking pain in his side. It can't be the bullet, can it? Are bullets supposed to hurt so fucking much? His eyelids still feel too heavy to lift but there's a pressure against his chest and oh God oh God oh God-_

_"It's breathing! I thought you said it was_ dead _."_

_"Never mind that. Get a sedative."_

 

 

"-remember what you were doing this morning?"

Josh's eyes slide past Hank to the room around him. Kitty, Ororo, and Piotr, the senior staff members, are all standing by in various positions of arm-crossedness which lets him just really know he's in the shit now. He takes a stab at it. "I dunno, nothing, really," he says.

The looks that are exchanged around the room tell him that's the wrong answer, and then Hank takes off his glasses, a sign which Josh has come to associate with bad news. "I made a terrible oversight in not immediately contacting Dr. Sawyer to schedule an appointment," he sighs.

"Who?" Josh says, though he has some idea of the answer.

* * *

_"Hello?_ "

_"I…"_

_"Is someone there?"_

_"Where…"_

_"Do you have a name? Hello? Hello?"_

* * *

"What do  _you_  think is happening?" says the woman known as Dr. Sawyer. She peers at Josh with a steady, interested gaze, and he wonders briefly if it's practiced.

"I dunno," Josh says dully, "I'm not really paying attention to things, I guess."

Dr. Sawyer nods and shifts in her seat behind her desk in the S.H.I.E.L.D office. "How long has it been seen you remember dying, Josh?" she asks.

"Almost a week."

"How would you say you've adjusted back at Jean Grey's School? It must be different form the apartment you've gotten used to. Does Jean Grey's remind you of Xaviers?"

"I've been to Jean Grey's before," Josh says. He squints at her, puzzled. "Aren't you going to ask me more about dying or something?" It's what he's been expecting, what he's tried and failed to prepare for. How can you describe death to someone who's never lived it? He snorts at the thought.

Sawyer clasps her hands on top of her desk. "Would you like to talk about that experience, Josh?" she asks.

"I think that's what you and a lot of other people would like me to talk about," he mutters.

"I'm  _your_  therapist, Josh, not anyone else's. I want to hear whatever you want to talk about. So, what's on your mind?"

Josh lets out a breath of air he hadn't realize he was even holding. He answers before he's really thought it through; "Nothing's changed," he says, "I… Julian told me about what happened before. With me not remembering the last couple of years. But it's pretty much the same now, isn't it? I'm out of time. I'm late.  _Again_." He pauses, biting his lower lip before continuing: "I mean, at least this time I'm not… I remember  _more_ , but it's still four lost years and now I'm back, I guess, and I should be fixing things. Like that –that X-Virus thing. I should be helping to close this fucking case that is only open in the first place because of me. Instead I'm… here."

Sawyer blinks, surprise by the ease of his admissions, but quickly recomposes herself. "Let's break this down a little. I'm not sure I quite follow," she says smoothly, "In what way did you start this?"

"I created the X-Virus," Josh say, "I'm responsible for the F.O.H getting their hands on it,"

"Did you give it to them? Did you hand over a sample in a vial?" Sawyer asks.

"Well, no," He frowns. "Look, it's still my fault,"

Sawyer tilts her head slightly, as if considering his appearance and searching for any obvious signs of his guilt. She gives a small shrug, as if not finding any.

He scowls.

"Do you feel like you still know your peers, despite the amount of time that has passed?" Sawyer says, instead of continuing on with her previous line of questioning. "Can you still relate to them, or do you feel out of place at Jean Grey's?"

He shifts in his seat, a sudden feeling of unease gripping him. He hadn't… He doesn't want to think of it like that. Josh answers slowly, trying to pick his words carefully. "I didn't want to be an X-Man," he says, "That's why I… well, I didn't leave, but after the battle at Genosha, I just never went back. And then I kept getting further and further from that life. Well, I tried, I guess, but that just took me in a full circle. I mean, look where I am now," he shakes his head. "I remember feeling out of place with my friends, but after I left, I dunno… I felt closer to them, in a way. It was better, because I had my thing, and they all had their thing, and I guess we were more or less content with our lives. Now I just…" He looks down at his lap, where he's clasped his hands tightly in front of him, "They still have that. Hell, they have more than that now. What do I have?"

Dr. Sawyer doesn't speak for at least a minute, and Josh doesn't look up. "What do you think you have?" she asks finally. "Nothing?"

"No," he says at once. Of course not. There's always  _something_ , and to deny that would be… He'd just be a whining burden. Weak and blind. No, there's always something. He just can't quite… think of one, and he supposes that just makes him self-absorbed or something.

"What then?" Sawyer says gently. "What do you have?"

Josh sighs. "I dunno. The usual. My brothers. Henry's got kids –I don't remember meeting them but I guess I will eventually…" He looks up, and sees that Dr. Sawyer is watching him with a thoughtful expression and pursed lips.

"How have your former classmates treated you?"

"I hurt them," he blurts out. He backtracks: "I mean, obviously I didn't die on  _purpose_  but I can just –I can  _see_  it."

"Do you feel at fault somehow?"

"Yeah. In a stupid way, I dunno."

Sawyer hums thoughtfully. "Do you recall anything after losing consciousness when you were shot in Chicago?"

"No," Josh says. He runs a hand through his hair, which is longer than he remembers. It's a strange thing to get caught up on, but the dissonance between his memory and reality makes him wince and quickly put his hand back down. "Not at first," he says. "But I think I have… impressions. You know, like, when you dream and then wake up, you can't remember what you dreamed but you know at the time it was really clear. It's like that with things. I remember …a light, like one that hangs over you at a dentist's office."

Sawyer opens one of the manila folders on her desk and flips to a second page of what looks a lot like the mission reports the new X-Men had to learn how to fill out in class after M-Day. "In a telepathic evaluation report filed by Quentin Quire, he wrote that, and I quote, 'Elixir's primary subconscious then indicated that he did not want to 'remember the pain'. Re: memory block. It is my totally expert opinion that Elixir's amnesia is a result of a repressive defense mechanism.' He concluded that the memory can easily be retrieved by a trained telepath or psychologist if necessary or at the patient's request," Sawyer adds, looking back to Josh.

"So I… okay, so I didn't want to remember and now I don't. Is that bad?" he asks.

"It depends. Are you trying to remember anyway?"

"I feel like I should,"

"Why?"

He exhales with frustration, "Because then I'd have a goddamn  _excuse_  for where the hell I've been and why the hell I haven't been here,"

Dr. Sawyer leans forward, staring at Josh intently. "Did you leave intentionally, Josh?" she inquires.

He blinks. "No," he says quietly.

"What happened?"

"I died," he says, giving her a strange look.

"Who's fault was it?" she presses. "Was it yours?"

"No!" he says, "It was –it was Darren's fault, but I –he wouldn't have –if I'd never…" he swallows hard, and falls silent.

" _Do_  you remember dying?"

"Yes."

"Okay. How do you feel about that?"

"About dying in general, or how it happened specifically?"

"Either,"

Josh sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. "It fucking hurt," he says. "But I guess there wasn't much to it. Like falling asleep when you don't want to, except you've also been shot and you're not going to wake up."

"What did you think when you woke up and found yourself miles away in New York?" Sawyer prompts.

"I thought maybe that was Heaven or something after all. The  _Med Lab_ ," he laughs humorlessly.

"The Med Lab within Jean Grey School," Dr. Sawyer points out.

"The Med Lab," Josh shakes his head. "It made sense, in a way. I spent most of the later part at Xavier's in the Med Lab. First studying, then being in a coma all the time."

"What happened when you realized you were still alive?"

 

 

_"Did you get that?"_

_"Yessir. Records show simultaneous electric shock at three hundred volts to the dorsolateral prefrontal and lateral orbitofrontal provokes phase regression and progression in the mutant subject."_

_"Five seconds, make sure you record that,"_

_"Got it."_

_"Record damages, as well, and make note of how long it takes to heal,"_

_"Where are you going, sir?"_

_"I'm calling in a request for a larger team to be brought in now. We've successfully gained control of the subject's form changes –now the real work can begin."_

 

 

"Josh?"

He blinks slowly and his eyes focus on Sawyer, who's watching him with concern. He suddenly becomes aware of the fact that he's risen to his feet, and he sits back down.

"I should've stayed dead," he says, "I just –this isn't…" he shakes his head. "This feels like… a dream," he says finally. "And I think if I wake up, I'll… I'll find myself still on a table in a dark room with that –that fucking  _light_  in my eyes –and then I… maybe I'm dead after all, and when this all ends I'll realize I'm in Hell."

* * *

Laura finds Josh sometime –well, sometime. The hours have blurred together, sitting in his room in the dark, but she lets herself in, still wearing a jacket like she's just returned to the school, and she sits down next to him on the ground behind the couch.

"So what's the diagnosis, X?" he says.

"Tentatively? Post-traumatic disassociation." she says.

"Well, shit,"

"It will only be more difficult if you isolate yourself," Laura warns. "You need support. Everyone does,"

"You seem to do pretty well on your own," Josh points out.

"I was raised to appreciate time alone. It is not lonely to me," she says sharply, "However, I still value companionship.  _You_  are not like me in this way. Don't lose yourself in your thoughts, Josh."

He turns to stare at her. She still looks more or less like a teenager –a side effect of her slower aging –but she stares at him with intent green eyes that have always been able to see right through him. Josh swallows the lump that begins to form in his throat. "I don't know what I'm doing here," he says "I really just. I feel like I'm waiting for this to fucking  _end_  and then I'd know what the  _hell_  is going on."

"You don't belong here,"

"What?" he says, panic jolting through him. He hadn't thought that anyone would actually  _say_ —

"I think you need to get back out… in the world. Some of us are content to stay at this school; others prefer to find work outside of the school while keeping their connections here." Laura explains, quickly quashing the thoughts of doubt that flood Josh's mind, completely unfounded.

He scoffs. "I have no money, no work references, and no GED. Where the hell am I supposed to go?"

She sighs. "X-Corp has a mutant scholarship program for a reason, Josh," she says. "Julian mentioned to me some days ago that you expressed interest in a health insurance assistance program he is overseeing."

"I don't remember," Josh says pointedly. He tries to picture the conversation. Julian had… he hadn't really mentioned speaking to the amnesiac version of him that had initially surfaced. Now that Josh thinks about it, he doesn't recall Julian talking about it at all.

"There is a charity event in San Francisco in two days. You should go," Laura suggests. "Take some time away from the school. Think about it, at least. I'll have Julian reserve you a place on the jet." She climbs to her feat, dusting off the back of her pants. "Have you eaten anything today?"

"I'll go later," he says evasively.

She just nods. "Welcome back, Josh," she says.

* * *

_"Revival recorded at thirty-nine hours, two minutes. Small traces of poison still detectable. Full recovery estimated at forty hours. Shall we prepare for the next trial, sir?"_

* * *

The door remains close for several minutes, and Josh just stares at it. He turns to leave, but stops. Fuck it, he can sense Julian is inside. He knocks again and hears a shout to wait a moment, followed by a bang of a door within the room.

Julian opens the door, haphazardly dressed in sweatpants and a t-shirt, a towel in one hand and his hair still dripping wet. "Oh," he says.

"Hey," Josh says. "Sorry, I didn't realize…"

"No, it's fine," Julian says hastily.

They stare at each other. "I didn't… I've been avoiding you, I guess," Josh admits finally, "Just a little bit. I thought maybe you didn't want…"

"No, I did –I mean, I didn't –I missed you. I did," Julian says.

Josh smiles a little. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault," Julian says at once, "None of it is your fault." He steps back and opens the door wider, "Uh, do you wanna come in?"

Josh follows him into the front hall of his room and then stops. "Laura mentioned earlier… yesterday. You're going to California and…"

"Oh, right," Julian says. "Did you decide if you wanted to go with me? It won't be too exciting –mostly, like, meeting people –but it's California," He dries his hair all the while, speaking casually, but when he finally straightens up and looks at Josh, there's something nervous about the way he's standing.

"Yeah, I was thinking about it," Josh says hesitantly. "And I know I've been… dead, but I just have to know, are we… can we still be…"

They stare at each other, and Julian opens and closes his mouth, looking equal parts lost and like he really wants to say something but doesn't know how to and maybe –and maybe Josh is imagining it –a little hopeful. Then a thought occurs to him: "I mean, fuck, unless you've got someone right now," he blurts out, "Fuck, I'm sorry, forget I said anything,"

Julian suddenly laughs, short and surprised. "I kissed you, like, a week ago," he says. "Don't you think I would've mentioned if I was dating someone?"

"So you, uh, do you want to?" Josh says awkwardly. "I mean, I know I'm –I'm a mess right now, I know. I lose time and I'm not always clear about what's happening or what I'm doing but I… I want things to be better, and before it was always better when we were –together."

Julian looks at him with a carefully, eyes searching Josh's expression for something. "Will you go to San Francisco with me?" he asks finally, not moving from where he's standing on nearly the other side of the sitting room.

Josh nods, "Anywhere. Christ, I don't even care where," he says, an edge of hysteria creeping into his voice. "Let's just get out of here."  _Get out of here and get away_. Everything would be right, then. It would feel real if they were away again, somewhere else.

"Flight's tomorrow afternoon," Julian says after a moment, throwing his towel onto the sofa and crossing his arms loosely over his chest. "I have to head back up to Manhattan tonight to get my things together. Want to come with me?"

"When were you planning to go?" Josh asks. He has nothing here, he has nothing at Jean Grey School, and he'll leave in a fucking heartbeat.  _Get out of here and when you're away, then you'll wake up and everything will be real again._

 

 

They leave the school after an early dinner and Josh carries a backpack of X-branded clothing he'd found around his room, while Julian shoulders a laptop bag and a duffel of clothes and various folders of work-related papers.

Josh makes an effort to smile as Santo, Cessily, Laura and Megan all make a point to find him and say their goodbyes before he and Julian head upstate; he meets briefly with Hank as well, and is reminded of an appointment with Dr. Sawyer for when he returns.

By the time he meets Julian in the lobby of the school, his smile is real and the pounding in his chest echoes the excited anticipation of  _free free free_  that races through his mind.

Julian seems startled by the apparent joy on Josh's face, and even more so when he leans up and kisses him, quick and chaste, but he returns the smile faintly, uncertainty still written in his eyes. "Ready to go then?"

Josh nods. "This is all I have," he assures Julian, adjusting the straps of the backpack needlessly.

The head for the front hall then, and when they pass Ruth on her way in the opposite direction, Josh pretends not the notice the way she stops in her tracks and turns, as if watching them go.

* * *

_He wakes up in darkness and at first he breathes out heavily. The pain –the light –God, the_ voices – _all just a bad dream and he's really just… he's…_

 _He tries to move, to sit up, but there's something stopping him, something clamped around his neck and his ankles and wrists. He's not lying down, he realizes with a jolt. Oh God, he's in water –he's –but how can he_ breathe _? He sucks in a great breath of surprise, swallowing liquid, feeling as though he's choking and yet he's_ not _. In the darkness before him, shapes come into focus, the outlines of shadowed figures becoming apparent. It's not so dark, he realizes as his vision continues to adjust. Just red._

 _And wherever he is –whatever he's_ in _–at least he's alive._

_The shadows against the red make noise –stifled and far away and he tries to look around but whatever is around his neck is also stopping him from moving. He squints ahead, trying to make sense of his situation and his feeling of floating and it's all so difficult to focus on… Perhaps he should just… sleep…_

_More noise from the shadowy figures brings him back to attention, and one of the figures moves closer, taking the shape of a man. There's another sound: a clinking of a knuckle rapping sharply against glass, followed by more distant sounds. Yet even muffled, as the sound continues, accompanied by more taps on glass, it becomes unmistakable: someone is laughing, cruel and gleeful._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suuure, run away from your problems. That always works out really well. Also, #justlittleXMenthings: letting a mentally ill person run off for a weekend instead of beginning therapy. What could go wrong am i right
> 
> ANYWAY, some usual notes/defs/explanations:  
> *A costotome is a type of rib bone cutter used in surgery to gain access to the thoracic cavity.  
> *A speculum is a device used to keeps things open; in ophthalmology, that happens to be the eye.  
> *The dorsolateral prefrontal cortex is an executive/logical function managing part of the brain  
> *The lateral orbitofrontal cortex controls appropriate emotional/social responses
> 
> SO. That happened. It was pretty terrible to write at some times, and I tried to keep the gore/torture description down to a minimum for everyone (and my) sake. 
> 
> What's up with Josh, you may wonder? Why are this thoughts so conflicting?? How can I possibly know if his dialogue truly matches his thoughts????? Is he an....... unreliable narrator???? gasp
> 
> AND WE WILL NOT BE FINDING OUT DIRECTLY, EITHER, AS NEXT CHAPTER IS FROM, ONCE AGAIN, JULIAN'S POV.   
> (And it will almost definitely be filler in the way that I'm just going to be continuing to set shit up for ~le finale~)
> 
> Also, don't you just love it when authors do that thing where they make you scroll down 1000 years of blank space. I know I do. /end sarcasm.
> 
>  
> 
> Tl;dr: What did you think??


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Julian POV that doesn't disregard last chapter but doesn't see the same thing. Because the inner turmoil is INNER  
> this was fun

He finds Josh in the living room, a mug in one hand as he leans close to the windowsill to observe the framed photographs there.

"I made coffee," Josh says as Julian approaches. He turns and waves toward the pictures. "These are nice. Are they from work?"

Julian glances at them. "Some of them, yeah." He says, "Hisako is really into photography. She has one of those polaroid cameras that print out the picture right away."

"Photography," Josh muses, "I can see it," He follows Julian back into the kitchen area and watches as he pour himself a cup of the brewed coffee.

Josh opens his mouth to say something, and the phone rings. Eight-thirty and there's already a problem? Christ. "Just a minute," Julian says, putting his mug down and heading out to find his phone.

The caller I.D says S.H.I.E.L.D Medical is calling, but that could be a number of people.

"Hello?"

"What the  _hell_  are you people thinking?" Dr. Sawyer snaps on the other end of the call. "Taking him to  _California_? Across the whole damn  _country_?"

"It's for the weekend," Julian says, "We'll be back Monday morning and his appointment's in the evening, right?"

There's a frustrated, strangled noise and then a loud inhale. When Sawyer speaks next, her voice reflects her usual calm and collected demeanor: "Mr. Keller, may I remind your that you are dealing with a deeply traumatized individual also suffering periods of dissociative amnesia? I  _strongly_  recommend that Josh Foley remain at the school."

Julian bites his lip, apprehension creeping over him. "If we go to California, will he…" He glances up and sees that Josh has wandered back out into the living room, a wary expression on his face.

"Is it Dr. Sawyer?" Josh whispers.

Julian nods, and Josh holds out his hand for the phone, which Julian hands over.

"Hello, Doctor," Josh says in a pleasant and truly soothing voice. He tilts his head as he listen, and Julian can only vaguely make out the quick words of Dr. Sawyer, but it occurs to him that this is the most focused and put together he's seen Josh since the day he woke up and listened to Julian in that cramped room off the Med Lab's open floor. The other times –speaking to him at meals and in the halls –Josh had been… distant, with vague smiles meant to be reassuring and often monosyllabic answers to questions. Then, the other day, when he hadn't seen Josh for nearly three days, Laura had returned to the school with the abrupt update on Josh's mental health.

"What did you expect?" Laura said, fixing him with a sharp look, as if challenging him to brush aside the diagnosis. And Christ, he'd admit that he hadn't thought… after all, Josh had claimed not to remember anything, but dying alone must have been traumatic. Julian was an idiot.

Standing in Julian's apartment now, Josh seems relaxed, his weight shifted to one side and the phone pressed between his ear and shoulder as he observes something to do with his hands. "...I understand, Dr. Sawyer, really, I do. Yes, I'm very familiar with it, and I know how to handle it— you have a point, but I've been dead four years. I'd like to go out in the world again… yes, just a moment," He holds the phone back out toward Julian, "She wants to tell you something,"

Bemused, he accepts the telephone and presses it to his ear. "Yeah?"

"Mr. Keller, listen to be very carefully," Dr. Sawyer says, voice steady, but low and stern, "As both you and my patient appear quite intent on escaping off to the sunny west coast, let me warn you: Josh is not capable of deciding what is best for him at this point. He  _will_  tell you he feels fine, and he will be lying. Keep him away from loud, crowded places. His trauma is based in a bunker, yes, but too much noise may overwhelm as well. Do you know how to deal with someone suffering a panic attack?"

Julian narrows his eyes. "Yes," he says. He hasn't had a big one in a long time, but he remembers the feeling, the horrible tightness in his chest and the way the world seemed to spin around him and everything was too loud and too close and the air was thick all around him and—

He quickly shuts down that line of thought.

"Be careful, dammit," Dr. Sawyer pleads.

"We'll be back in two days, Dr. Sawyer," Julian says reassuringly.

"X-Men," she mutters, barely audible. "I want a check-in Saturday at seven p.m Eastern Time, are we clear?"

"Yes ma'am. Doctor." Julian says, scowling at Josh, who grins widely at the slip.

She hangs up and Julian stares at the phone in his gauntlet hand. "She's right, you know," he says finally.

Josh makes an impatient noise. "Julian," he says, plucking the phone out of his grip and going to place it back to charge. "I can adjust my brain chemistry if I start to feel weird."

Julian frowns. Brain chemistry? "You better not be bullshitting," he warns.

"I'm not," Josh says solemnly, turning back to him, "Look, I didn't do it before because I didn't know anything was  _wrong_. Look at me. I'm making my brain produce more serotonin right now. I'm calm, aren't I?"

"And the blackouts?" Julian points out.

Josh shrugs. "I'll be with you, won't I? It's just two more days. It's already been, what, over a week?"

Julian doesn't know Josh to be a liar. Sure, he'll tell the odd white lie of omission, but he's never outright lied to Julian's face. "Okay," he says finally, "But you have to  _tell_ me if something's happening, okay? And Dr. Sawyer will be expecting a check-in call Saturday evening."

Josh nods, "It sounds fine. See? Everything works out. You worry too much,"

Julian raises his eyebrows. "Someone's got to," he says.

"I love you," Josh says, and then blinks, "Fuck, wait. Sorry, I'm sorry, I did  _not_  mean to just -Christ, forget I said anything, okay? That was totally uncool. It's been years for you, and I shouldn't just -oh my God"

-Julian kisses him and Josh quickly stops talking to return it, wrapping his arms around Julian's waist and moving his mouth against Julian's fiercely, like his life depends on it. It's different from the slow, languid kiss he had given Julian in the Med Lab, and as Julian pulls away to  _breathe_ , Josh bites his lower lip just hard enough to send Julian's mind spinning.

"You taste like peppermint toothpaste," Josh says. "And you've got mint gum in like  _all_  your cupboards. Is this something I should be expecting from now on?"

Julian huffs a laugh, still a little dazed. "Probably,"

Josh rests a hand against Julian's chest, looking thoughtful. Julian's next breath is a shudder and he turns away toward the kitchen, coughing. He turns on the sink and spits, and watches a brownish-black glob wash away into the drain. "Some love. Seriously?" Julian says weakly, pouring himself a glass of water to rinse his mouth out.

"I should've warned you," Josh admits, entering the kitchen, "Although, that hasn't happened in the past."

"Four years," Julian reminds him when he's got the bitter taste of coughed up  _tar_  out of his mouth. "And I told you I wanted to quit on my own, didn't I?"

"I healed your lungs, not the addiction," Josh says, crossing his arms, "Although I hope that little experience helped with the addiction, too."

Julian makes a face. "You're evil," he grumbles, rubbing a hand against his chest, still sore from coughing. Even so, he thinks maybe each breath does come a little easier now. Well, shit.

Josh takes a drink from his mug of coffee to hide his grin.

Later, Julian finishes packing his thing for the trip –clothes, laptop, and toiletries. He packs a second suit for Josh, and since it's one of the tailored ones that Laura, of all people, convinced him to buy, it'll be only slightly loose for Josh.

When he emerges from his room he finds Josh still in the living room, speaking in hushed tones to someone who Julian quickly determines to be one of his brothers.

Josh grins a little and waves, still listening to whatever is being said on the other line, and Julian moves on back into the kitchen to forage for something that might resemble lunch. In the end, he's still looking around his mostly empty refrigerator when Josh walks into the room.

"You know," he says thoughtfully, "I didn't get you anything for the holidays,"

"I think you get a pass this year," Julian says, looking up. "Uh, also, I don't actually have food."

Josh peers over Julian's shoulder, taking in the single orange, bottle of ketchup, and weird, molding box of leftovers from who-knows-when that is currently occupying the fridge. "Right," he says, "Is there time for take-out?"

Which is how, half an hour later, they're seated around the coffee table eating Subway.

"No kitchen table," Josh observes.

Julian shrugs. "I have a desk in my room,"

"Guess it'd be kind of stupid to get a kitchen table and one chair,"

"I think you have to get the chairs all together," Julian says.

"Really?"

They contemplate it, the puzzling nature of dining furniture sales, and Josh suddenly snorts. "We're thinking about tables," he points out, grinning, " _Tables_ ,"

"I've never had a real table," Julian muses. "Is that something we're supposed to have by now?" He's never heard of table ownership being a benchmark for success in adult life. Who knows? Maybe it's an unsaid expectation, to own a table.

Josh stares. "Well, don't think  _too_  hard about it," he says. "Christ, Keller,"

Julian lobs a piece of fallen sandwich lettuce across the coffee table, where it hits Josh right on the nose before falling into his lap.

Josh takes no time flicking it right back and soon the table and carpet is strewn with tiny pieces of lettuce.

"That was dumb," Julian complains as they pick up the fallen soldiers of their war.

"You started it," Josh says, reaching over and plucking a stray leaf from Julian's hair and tossing it into the trash basket with the rest of the scraps.

He begins to stand, but Josh stops him, leaning across the table to take his face between his hands to pull him into a kiss.

"What was that for?" Julian says breathlessly when Josh lets go.

"Loser gets a consolation prize," he grins.

"Uh  _whoa_ , who said you won?"

Josh rolls his eyes, "Please," he says, "I hit you more than you hit me. Therefore, I win,"

"My aim was more accurate!"

"Who's to say?" Josh says breezily, shrugging.

They're still arguing about it when they get into a cab to take them to the airport.

"Alright, but logically," Julian says, "It's better to hit someone with precision rather than accuracy. I mean, look at Hawkeye—"

"Logically, you'd bleed out, and I'd just heal myself,"

"I'm sorry, I didn't realize lettuce could kill you,"

"You're grasping for straws, Keller! I got you more times than you got me. I won, fair and simple."

* * *

They're met at the San Jose airport by Sooraya and Noriko, who wave from beyond the gates.

Noriko grabs Josh into a tight but brief hug and then claps a hand on Julian's shoulder. "Everyone in one piece, huh?" she says.

"How was your flight?" Sooraya asks as they head out toward the parking garage.

"Julian slept most of the way," Josh says, "It was cute,"

"I hate flying," Julian grumbles, and then, aware of the utter irony of the statement, adds, "Too much hassle to fly as a registered telekinetic,"

"Hah," Noriko snorts from where she's leading the group, "Try having to explain to TSA agents that I  _can't_  take my gauntlets off,"

"That's why you don't forget your security waiver, Nori," Sooraya calls.

"One time!" she protests, throwing her hands in the air.

They reach the van Sooraya and Noriko drove over in and, with late lunch hour traffic, they don't make it to San Francisco for well over an hour.

On the way to Greymalkin, they pass the Golden Gate Bridge, which Josh just stares at, eyes wide, and it occurs to Julian that he was not around for the completion of San Francisco's rebuilding process following the battle against Bastion. Even when they had lived in the city, it had still been marked with reconstruction efforts.

"Do people still live on Utopia?" Josh wonders as they glimpse the island just before turning onto the long winding driveway up to the Greymalkin building.

"Some people," Noriko says, "It's mostly, like, a dining-shopping district now. Technically part of the Mutant District,"

"Shopping?" Josh echoes, turning to stare out the back window.

"There's a farmer's market," Julian says, just to see the way Josh's face twists in bemusement.

"Holy  _shit_ ," Josh mutters. "When was the last time the world was threatened, anyway?"

"The  _world_?" Sooraya hums. "I don't know about that,"

"We're mostly dealing with outer space shit right now," Noriko says, "There was a small misunderstanding with the Shi'ar a little while back. Again,"

"Don't we have S.W.O.R.D for that?" Josh asks.

"Aw, but the Shi'ar rather like us X-Men, don't you think?" Nori snickers.

With less X-Men living permanently at Greymalkin, part of the building has been converted into work and training space open to the public, which is to say, people with crime-fighting interests.

"The outreach program on the West Coast isn't as organized as the one we have in New York," Julian tells Josh as they head past the lobby to the dorms, "But they have a really good mutant awareness program. The whole point of this year's charity event is to raise money to expand on it. Of course, part of the funds will be funneled toward other programs"

"-Julian's got all the numbers and shit figured out," Noriko laughs, interrupting. "And he'll probably repeat them to you at least a dozen times if you're not careful,"

"I'll repeat them however many times I like," Julian declares, "Because I give a shit,"

"Alright, Mr. Gives a Shit," Noriko snorts, "Your rooms will be over there. Room twenty-seven and twenty-nine."

"Did you have a chance to eat on the flight over?"

"We already ate lunch," Josh assures, and so Noriko and Sooraya excuse themselves with explanations of work to do, but Noriko invites them to join her for dinner in town later.

That said, they're left to their own devices and Josh takes one look at door twenty-nine and then follows Julian into twenty-seven, grinning widely when Julian rolls his eyes. He flops on the bed with a huge sigh and Julian turns to unpack some of his things, setting his laptop onto a desk and hanging up the suits.

Josh is lying on his back staring at the ceiling when Julian turns back to him. "Well, we don't have anything to do until tomorrow morning," he says. "Josh?"

Josh looks up and smiles. "Sorry. Just thinking."

"About what?" Julian says, sitting down next to him and lying back heavily. The movement causes Josh to bounce up a little and he nudges Julian in the side, grumbling as he shifts over to reposition himself comfortably.

"Life, I guess," Josh says, "No really," he insists, when Julian snorts loudly. "I'm talking to you right now. I'm fucking  _alive_. How many people does that happen to? Without the help of some cosmic force or weird, ninja experimentation?" He laughs after that, but it's strained.

Julian turns his head to watch Josh, who doesn't return the gaze. "There doesn't have to be a reason, you know. If that's what you're looking for… I mean, you don't need an  _excuse_  to be alive."

"I know." Josh says softly, and maybe there's something odd about the way he smiles when he finally turns to look at Julian, but maybe Julian's overthinking it, too, because when Josh kisses him, it's sweet and gentle and right.

* * *

"When did  _this_  happen?"

Josh looks around for a moment, confused, before he seems to realize that David is probably referring to the flirtatious swatting of hands that he and Julian have been conducting in the bored silence as the group waits for their meals to arrive. Julian has an unfair advantage at this game.

"Are you serious?" Julian says, gauntlets finally stilling and moving to settle on the table. He looks at Noriko, "Is he serious?"

She shrugs and takes a deep sip from her ice tea. "Word didn't really get around  _that_  fast before Josh kicked the bucket. Sorry." She adds when David and Julian cringe a little.

Josh, on the other hand, waves a hand around. "So what are you doing over here?" he asks David. "Nori mentioned you're with the Young Avengers now?  _Really_?"

David snorts at the scandalized edge to Josh's incredulity. "Yeah, well, mostly. I do a lot of consultant work with Stark Industries these days. That's why I'm here right now, actually."

"He's one of the guys representing Stark at Julian's charity thing," Noriko says.

"It's not  _my_  charity thing," Julian complains as the waiter of the grill Noriko has taken them to steps out onto the patio with a tray.

He sets down the plates and retreats with a cheerful "enjoy your meal", which is perhaps a jinx on it right then, because they've barely picked up their utensils to start eating their various meals when something near David lets out a sharp chirp.

"Should've turned it off," Noriko sings when David groans and pulls out what must be his emergency cell.

"Anything we should be worried about?" Julian asks, when David is quiet, staring down at it.

"No," he says slowly, "I mean, not immediately. It's Laura –I guess she knew I would have my… she says S.H.I.E.L.D got a tip-off that there's been F.O.H activity that indicates some sort of movement toward the area. Laura's flying in tomorrow," He looks up. "You should let security for the fundraiser know,"

"Security is S.H.I.E.L.D," Julian says.

"Guess they already know, then,"

"Hold on," Noriko says, waving a fork at Josh, "What if the F.O.H are trying to get at  _Josh_? They've got to be trying to get their hands on him again, right?"

"All the more reason to increase security," David says.

Julian feels bile rise to his throat. The F.O.H, take Josh again? The idea is utterly sickening. He glances at Josh, but his face is carefully blank. "We won't let those –those— they're not getting him, again or ever." He says, because it seems like one of those things you have to same aloud to give finality to it.

"Josh?" Noriko says softly.

He jerks. "Yeah, okay," he says. He looks around. "I'm not worried."

"You're not?" David says, "The F.O.H…"

"They're not as strong as they were before," he says. He looks at Julian, "You said S.H.I.E.L.D's been coming down on them, right? They're scattered."

"They still have the X-Virus –and not even officially," David points out.

Josh shrugs. "I can deal with that," he says, and turns his attention to his sandwich, taking, perhaps, more interest in biting into and chewing it than necessary.

David looks at Josh thoughtfully and then glances at Julian also, that Thinking About Things Beyond You expression on his face that used to always irritate Julian.

"So how about that Josephson Bill?" Noriko says after a moment, and they settle on the much lighter conversation of mutant rights legislation for the rest of the evening together.

They part with Noriko and David after the meal, opting to walk through the city streets in mutual silence.

"It looks good," Josh says after a while. "The city. And there's so many mutants again,"

"People are saying we might be at one million in a year," Julian says. "Maybe five years before we get as many as there were before again."

They reach a sidewalk that runs parallel to the ocean and from there they can see Utopia, lit up in the night like a Christmas tree.

"This trip is the first time I've seen Utopia in three –seven years," Josh muses. "Last time it was still burning."

"What?" Julian frowns.

"When I heard about the battle with Bastion, I flew right over from Genosha," Josh says, staring out across the ocean between them and Utopia, "The dome over the city was already down by then but I dunno. I couldn't bring myself to go to the island. I stayed in the city. There was this first aid tent I volunteered at."

"And I thought you were on Genosha the whole time," Julian says with a small, surprised huff. "That's why you didn't come back, right? To the X-Men?"

"I've got a power that can actually  _help_  people directly. I can  _do_  more than just –just fight  _aliens_." Josh said, "And most of the time I don't even use it. I know, logically, I can't help everyone in the world, but… I still feel guilty."

Faintly, Julian thinks they've had this conversation before, and abruptly he's reminded of the time after Limbo, when Josh had just grown David's heart back, and had fallen into some sort of loner, quiet state. Julian had been unwilling to approach Josh at that time, but he remembers thinking about it from time to time, in his vague, teenage attempts to think about the greater picture of life, and he thinks that Josh's powers have always been something of a curse and a gift to him. The celestial power to heal all wounds and bring people back to life, and it all rests in the hands of a single man, not even thirty years old right now. Josh is only human, and Julian can only begin to imagine what kind of pressure he must feel at times.

Josh sighs and leans back from the railing, turning his back on Utopia. "I guess there's no point dwelling on it," he says, and waves toward the street before them, where the street lamps are beginning to turn on as the sun edges further past the horizon. "Shall we?"

They walk with their arms linked for the rest of the evening, and Josh is silent at Julian's side, listening to his ramblings about the changes in the city over the past couple of years –the expansion of the Mutant District and the S.H.I.E.L.D-led crackdown on mutant hate crimes around the area. For the most part, Julian can't be sure Josh is listening at all, except for the infrequent thoughtful  _hm_  and the way his grip tightens when Julian recounts a recent vote on a proposal to restrict mutants from applying for disability benefits.

Julian doesn't really mind the silence, though, not when Josh is walking next to him and he can feel the heat of his body against his side. He worries, though.  _God_ , does Julian worry. The disassociation, and not knowing whether it's happening at any given moment and he wants to fucking  _believe_  Josh that he can control his brain chemistry, because Josh doesn't lie like that, but how can he know? Maybe Josh believes it too but does that make it  _real_? And these are questions Julian feels helpless to answer, and he's afraid, too. Afraid of asking and pushing Josh away somehow when all he goddamn wants is  _close_ and  _closer_ —and when did Julian get like this?

Nearly six years ago, he realizes, when Josh had shown up and hadn't asked questions or really even wanted anything back. There had been a mutual understanding, then, Julian thinks, and he'd never been able to find it just right again in the last four years and what, three relationships? Eliza had— well, they both really fucking  _tried_ , but he hadn't deserved her and he'd hurt her.

He and Josh walk up the pathway toward Greymalkin and it's totally dark now, the sun finally gone from the sky, and the night lit by the city's artificial, blinking lights. He thinks about what Josh had said that morning, and how he hadn't returned the phrase, too uncertain, too caught unaware, but it's been four years and it's true for Josh and still –somehow, fucking  _somehow_  –unchanged for Julian as well.

"I love you," He finds himself saying.

Josh's step falters and he lets go of Julian's arm, turning to stare up at Julian. His face is lit by the light pouring out of Greymalkin, the building just feet away. "What?" he says, the first thing in over an hour.

Julian blinks. "Jesus  _Christ_ , I love you," he says.

A smile forms slowly across Josh's lips, "It's Josh, actually," he says,

"Oh, shut up"

"-But I'll take it," And he wraps his arms around Julian's neck and kisses him slowly in the night.

* * *

Julian is startled awake with a hoarse shout close to his ear. He bolts upright, calling his gauntlets to his aid before he's even quite sure of where or when he is, and finally his groggy, sleep-addled mind puts two and two together and he realizes the shout has come from Josh, who is clutching the bed sheets tightly on either side of him, and twitching violently against a phantom touch.

"Josh," Julian whispers, and then louder: " _Josh_. Josh!"

He wakes up swinging and with a wordless shout, but Julian catches his wrist with one hand, and even in the dark they both stares at the dark, glowing arm caught inches from Julian's face by his own, metal prosthetic.

Josh's arm turns back to gold at once. "Oh my God," he says shakily, covering his face in his hands.

"It was my fault," Julian assures at once, "I shouldn't have"

"-I could have hurt you," Josh exclaims, looking up again.

Julian winces. "You didn't,"

"I could've killed you," Josh repeats, starting to move away.

Julian stops him and let's go of his wrist almost immediately. "I'm sorry," he says, "Josh, listen to me, it wasn't you fault, okay? It was mine. I shouldn't have woken you up like that. I don't know what I was thinking, I was –I was afraid you –you were in pain or something, I…" He trails away, and Josh doesn't make a move to get up again.

His breath is loud in the dark, white eyes glassy and wide in the dark. "Is this real?" he breathes.

A lump rises in Julian's throat. "Yes," he says, "Yes, Josh, this is real. You're alive, okay? This is –we're at Greymalkin, in San Francisco. It is December, twenty-fourteen. You're twenty-five years old and"

"-I remember," Josh says quietly, and after another silent moment where he curled at the edge of the bed, his limbs seem to loosen and he lies back down on the bed, closing his eyes.

"Josh?" Julian says carefully, but there is no answer. It's something like two o'clock in the morning, so finally, he lies back as well. He listens to the deep, steady breathing from Josh beside him, and he doesn't fall asleep again for a long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Let’s just assume Josh has been paying about as much attention to David’s life as David was to Josh’s and he never realized David had gotten involved with the YA before he died.  
> * “Much lighter conversation of mutant rights legislation” haha CLASSIC  
> *There’s a quote by Elixir from NXM (I forget the issue) where he says, right after he heals Laura and comes out of his coma, “It was something Julian said, of all people… I know I can be more. I can do more.”  
> *I cry about this a lot. Poor baby knows he can help a lot of people, but there’s SO MANY PEOPLE THAT NEED HELP  
> *Haha why would I end a chapter with fluff? Does that sound like me??
> 
> Well there it is folks!! Is Josh disassociating? When is he doing it? How can we tell if Julian can't tell? Will we ever know? Who knows? Do you know? Do I know?? Questions we must ask ourselves.
> 
> Anyway, so that's that. What a huge spectacularly filler chapter. I included David bc I love David, but I'm afraid I didn't write him very well. Or enough for anyone to be able to tell, anyway. Next chapter will be back over with our amigos in NY, namely, Delilah and the other gals.
> 
> What'd you think about this? Comments on the Great Lettuce Wars? Imo, Josh def won. Also, making Julian cough up tar? Rude! The romance dead.
> 
> (NO IT'S NOT. THEY'rE BOTH ALIVE. WELL AND ALIVE.
> 
> jfc i just panicked really hard after i wrote that line. no one is dead.
> 
> //whispers to self://
> 
> no.
> 
> one.))


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter focuses primarily on Delilah. I SWEAR all the crap that I mention will come into play later on, but yeah, there's not a lot of Julian or Josh in this chapter. Apologies, if you're not a huge fan of these OCs.  
> Next chapter will be back to Julian's pov most likely.  
> Lots of notes at the end of the chapter!

1921

Monique says, before they take her, that there will be things she will have to get used to.

"There will always be people who want to use you, child," Monique says, "But you must be strong, always keep fighting those who would wrong and belittle you. It is better to walk fast than to grow angry at the forest. Do you understand?"

Delilah nods miserably, or as best she can with her head still resting her arms and Monique behind her, braiding her hair into tiny braids. Monique has picked out the colors for the beads from a hand-carved wooden box behind the counter in the antique shop, and as she braids, the beads sit on the counter: reds and oranges browns and one gold bead to put at the ends.

"There you are, girl," she says finally, when she has tied off the last braid with a golden bead. "Beautiful."

"I still hear it," Delilah whispers.

"Well of course you do," Monique says, her voice clear and steady and rising above the low thrum of indiscernible noise that goes in and out of existence everywhere Delilah walks. "You'll always hear it, but you will block it out, if you want, someday. And you will learn what they are telling you."

Delilah stares at her feet, at her battered black shoes and mismatched socks. "Roy Brown says I belong in the loony bin."

"There is nothing wrong with you," Monique says. "Child, look at me,"

And Delilah looks up, up at Monique, who is beautiful with smooth, dark skin that always smells like the oils she put on, and whose head is always wrapped in a green and yellow scarf. At home, her scarf is gone, as is her heavy, gilded jewelry, and her forehead is exposed. Delilah stares into the bright yellow eye off Monique forehead, which is wont to gaze slowly around the room, always looking for something, but what, Delilah does not know. At that moment, it is looking back at Delilah.

She swallows hard. "Moni, your eye's watchin' me,"

"I'm looking at you." Monique stares for a while more and then her third eye shifts away, seemingly satisfied and she nods. "Nothing wrong with you," she declares, pulling Delilah into her lap and hugging her close, "Just as I suspected."

Delilah rests her head against Monique's shoulder. "What did you see?" she wonders.

Monique sounds far away when she replies. "A light. Burning bright at the end of a long, dark tunnel." She looks down at Delilah with an odd expression, and then she smiles a soft, sad smile.

The next week, she is gone.

* * *

When Delilah is fifteen, the hidden community of abnormals in Harlem begins to disappear. Nobody quite suspects anything when Marvin James doesn't get home one day. His sister is hysterical but there's a number of reasons a young black man can go missing on a hot summer night, and most of them don't even involve his odd, scaly skin condition, or the amphibian agility he conducts himself with. No questions are asked. Only the unseen mourn him.

In early September, Delilah begins hearing the soft hum of the machines, of the basic traffic lights and the first models of television systems. She stays away from the big movie theatre while everyone else flocks to it, and not only because she hasn't even the nickels to get in; the theatre scares her, with its chattering audiences and even louder humming noises. She goes to school and straight back to Monique's antique shop. On the day that the Music Box Theatre opens across the city, with its low whispers of lighting rigs and brand new loudspeakers, Elizabeth Jackson and Phyllis Johnson go missing in the same week, and the abnormals in Harlem begin to wonder and worry, in the vaguest sense. When, in October, Ape-Foot Owen body is found down by the river with his funny feet missing, Delilah sees Monique put down the newspaper and fold up the small article about Owen.

Monique puts the article in one of the pockets of her many-layered dress. "He wasn't like us. Don't you worry about it, girl," Monique says, standing without finishing her breakfast. "Now, you go to school, y'hear? And come straight here after."

"Where're ya goin', Moni?" Delilah asks, trailing Monique through the cramped kitchen in the back of the antique shop and to the door that exits into the alley.

"Out," Monique says shortly, "You be careful now. School and back."

"School and back," Delilah promises, watching Monique put on her old gray coat. She's already wearing her scarf for the day, and the gray of her overcoat covers the colors of her dress, still brightly patterned in all the years since she arrived in the city with them in a suitcase. That was long before Delilah's time.

Delilah watches Monique hurry out of the alley and that is the last time she sees her in a long, long time.

* * *

In early October, Delilah wanders downtown and walks along the edges of the brightly lit streets of Time Square. The city moves around her, colorful and flashy. Young men and women running, laughing, out for a night on the town.

No one gives her a sparing look, except—

"You –girl,"

She turns, bemused, and there's a white man in a sharp, gray suit. A man in a gray suit with a hat, watching… a man… a man…

* * *

"Definitely one of them,"

"What's it  _do_ , though?

"It has some effect on things,"

"Effect? On _things_?"

"The equipment! Damn near blew out all our tech yesterday during the examination,"

Delilah opens her eyes slowly, groaning at the dull ache in her head. There are two voices, not too far way. Two men talking, and the occasional clink of something metal between their words.

"Blows up tech. Useless."

"Guessin' it has some sort of… electromagnetic interference force,"

"Can you hear yourself?"

"What? Ain't nothin' mystical about this freak. Not like that voodoo one…"

The other voice sighs heavily. "Mark this one down for low value. Unknown ability range."

"Don't suppose we could ask?"

There's a beat, and then booming laughter.

* * *

1928

They leave her in a cell of some kind to die, and Delilah lies against the damp stone floor in the dark little room and waits for it, but nothing happens. She listens to the hum, and it's far away, barely there, but that's what she focuses on, and the world beyond her becomes a blur.

One day, the dark is split by a wide bar of yellow light and three men shuffle into the room.

Delilah turns her head weakly and stares up at the figures, blurry before her eyes. Had they come to kill her? Or had she died after all, and this was Hell?

There is a yelp of surprise. "Jesus H., it's still alive,"

They scramble back and take up arms. "But they…the record said…"

"She hasn't been on the record for upkeep…"

A hand closes around her upper arm, lifting her and her feet drag on the floor, but she's being carried –carried. The lighting changes. The stone floor changes, dark to light. Her toes leave grimy streaks on a white floor with tiny little tiles.

 _God_!

Cold –cold—

Delilah shivers and shudders as another bucket of water splashes over her. She looks around and she's in some sort of –some sort of bright room with a drain in the middle for dirty water to trickle into. There's a white woman scrubbing her skin viciously with soap, a white cloth tied over her face as a sanitary mask.

"Where am I?" Delilah says, voice a raspy from neglect.

There's no response from the woman, who just continues scrubbing single-mindedly, and after scrubbing, drying. The hum is louder than it's ever been when Delilah is pushed by the woman into a long hallway. A man takes her arm and marches her to a room up a flight of stairs.

There's a –a doctor? He flips through a clipboard. "Well, they did mark it down as low value property," he muses, "Still, that's no reason to forget about something for seven years, is it? Thank God for administration changes, eh?" He looks at Delilah and then at the man standing behind her, still holding her arm. "I'll take it from here, Harry,"

The hand on her arm disappears and there are footsteps retreating.

Delilah glances around. Silver instruments hanging from the ceiling, and wooden cabinets along the walls with books in the ones with clear doors.

"Do you have a name?" the doctor asks.

"Delilah,"

"Delilah," he repeats, as if testing out the name. "And your surname?"

"Wolof. Are you the police?"

"Well, the nice men here did rescue you, hm? Are you glad?"

Delilah stares up at the doctor, with his long, thin face and reddish round nose. "Glad?" she repeats blankly.

"You know, you haven't asked many questions," the doctor says, "Do you understand what is happening, Delilah? We saved you from that terrible, dark room. Aren't you glad?" He has a yellow smile and his lower front teeth are cramped together in a crooked line.

"Who are you?"

He laughs. "Think of us like a … foster care. Now, I just want to ask you some questions. That's reasonable isn't it? After saving you? I just want to know some things. They're easy questions, I assure you."

* * *

This time they leave her in a lit room.

"That one don't talk much, do it? Kinda dumb, innit? Just stares at the wall, even without the pills."

"Well, then she can already do more than you, huh?"

The second voice she recognizes. The second voice she remembers… she remembers… No, no, she can't. Everything is… hazy. Even the hum. Quieted.

"…Better remember that."

"But it's easier to just say"

"-It's the  _mindset_. If you say 'she' or 'he', you're giving false value to it. They're not real people –not human like us."

"That's dumb,"

" _Hey_. Better learn to keep those kind of thoughts to yourself, Johnny. Wouldn't want anyone here to the wrong idea."

"Yeah, yeah, of course…"

* * *

1934

They're shuffling her along a crowd of others –people Delilah sometimes sees when she's brought out of her room –people who look odd sometimes. She's walking near an older lady with a slow-moving dark purple patches on her skin. The group of seven or so abnormals are gathered into a room with a tiled linoleum floor and around ten orderlies, and then they are lined up in a row in the middle of the room face a big black window.

The hum is… consistent, now, the volume steady rather than fading in and out. It's growing, too, and she can… almost hear words now, if she listens carefully. Odd words that don't make any sense. A far away  _Hello, World_.

"Subject Seven," a tinny voice says from a hidden speaker, "Beginning the examination section, a mutant specimen discovered in an unused corridor of cell block three. It survived  _seven_  years with no food or drink! Originally marked as low value, with a minor interference effect on electromagnetic fields, Subject Seven is valued currently at around sixty thousand dollars. This is a mutant that can unlock the secrets of immortality, mind! The bidding shall begin shortly." The voice crackles out.

Bidding.  _Bidding_?

Delilah looks around the room, eyes wide. "Hello?"

 _Hello_? Someone hums backs, far away –too far away.  _Hello, world?_

One of the orderlies comes over and takes Delilah by the arm, leading her out of the room again. Nobody else moves. In the hall, the orderly sighs heavily. "Guess there ain't a chance they'll put you somewhere nice," he says. "Not someone like you. Plus, looked like a couple of those military guys looked interested in immortality." He draws out the syllables in the last word and sighs again, at which point the foggy feeling in her head and odd numbers and letters floating around in the air finally clear long enough for Delilah to get a good look at him. Thin, white man. Brown hair. Tired eyes. "Alright," Johnny says with another sigh. "You just wait here and whoever bought you up will come and get you. You hear me? Nod, yes or no."

Delilah nods slowly, puzzled. She tries to say something. Distantly, she hears a garbled mess of sounds. Is that her?

Johnny presses his lips together in a thin line that looks familiar, but she can't quite… quite decide where she's seen it before…or if she has. She must have, right?

"I'm sorry," Johnny says, sounding upset, and his eyes darting all around up and down the hall. "I need the money. I need the money. I can't. Never, I can't. But I've kept a good eye on you, ya hear? Even if you can't remember. I've been about as nice as a guy can get around here, and that's good enough. I got a family to think about now, but I tried. I'm sorry, I need the money." He stops babbling then, and turns away, staring somewhere else that Delilah doesn't have the energy, or perhaps the power, to turn to.

A door opens somewhere and a man in a suit walks into view, trailed by two large, thuggish men. "Subject Seven?"

Johnny holds out a folder he's been carrying under his arm. "This is her file. Legal name Delilah Wolof from Harlem, New York City, New York. Age twenty-eight. She's very calm, sir, won't give you no problems at all. In my experience"

"-Did I ask you?" the man in the suit sneers. He has slicked back brown hair and a hat under his arm. His eyes are dark and beady and when he looks at Delilah, he doesn't see her.

"No, sir, my apologies." Johnny says at once. "You'll find transportation arrangements set in the garage. We thank you for your business."

The man makes a noise of acknowledgment and inspects Delilah some more. "The specimen has no damages?"

"No sir," Johnny assures. "We take care not to inflict harm on the merchandise –it would lower their values."

The man nods to the big men flanking his sides, "Alright, take her ahead…"

And the hands that grab her are much more forceful, and heavier, and Delilah is marched away, down another hall. There's always another hall. Another…

"Goodbye, Delilah," Johnny calls abruptly, and Delilah tries to look back, but is stopped by the man on her left flank, and instead she is jostled up a flight of stairs and all the hallways look the same. They're always the same.

She is taken into a dimly lit room where the air is cooler and there are dark automobiles lined up, waiting. Delilah is lifted into one, and the doors are slammed shut, encasing her in darkness, and this is all she knows for a long time.

* * *

2014

Sometimes there is a blue woman standing over her, and other times there is a short, hairy man and then there are people in dark blue uniforms that she does not know. They come and go in hazy moments of consciousness that all begin to bleed together, and there is a sharp focus and—

"You're safe now,"

She stirs, opening her eyes to what appears to be a cushioned, white cell. The ceiling is much higher than a normal one, and near the top is a window streaming in natural light. The light in the room is turned off, and a young woman with dark hair stands at the foot of her bed.

The woman makes an effort to smile. "Hello, Delilah," she says. "My name is Laura Kinney,"

Systems online. Time date stamp 10:41 A.M; 28 December 2014. "Codename X-23," Delilah mutters. She sits up slowly. "Status update error. No data archived. Sorry," she says, finding her words spilling out freely in a manner she is not accustomed to. "What happened?"

Laura Kinney's face is impassive, but there is a pitying look in her bright green eyes for a flash of a second. "Your captors programmed, at some point, triggers in your mind."

"Self-destruct?"

"A program to corrupt any artificial intelligence around you to attack with violence –or so S.H.I.E.L.D has told me. They are confident they have dismantled it," Laura says. She tilts her head to the side. "Do you remember it?"

Delilah takes a moment on that. She remembers… Codename Wolverine, putting metal bracelets around her wrists that abruptly silenced the white noise of the Machine, and listening to the empty nothing on a seemingly eternal ride through the dark. Arriving at S.H.I.E.L.D in a brightly lit garage and being escorted into the building.  _They'll fix ya right up, it's gonna be fine_.  _Look at me. You're gonna be fine_. Lying back in a gray seat with straps for her arms and legs. A friendly woman in a blue uniform, speaking softly, smoothly, making her eyes droop. Beyond her, sharp commands and bustling agents. Then nothing. Nothing. Nothing. "No," she says finally. "Was that it?"

Laura shakes her head. "You have to stay here for a little longer. S.H.I.E.L.D wants to keep an eye on you, and look for more triggers, if necessary."

Delilah looks down, at where she has unconsciously knotted her fingers together in her lap. She is a danger, she thinks, a –a— malfunctioning machine. She is corrupted, and here she had been led to believe there was some hope, some semblance of faith that even with no understanding of who she was, no origin, little ability to socially  _function_ … she still believed she would fit in. It is a lie. She sees it now. She is a menace to the very people who saved her. "I am glad," she says finally. "You… Rescued me. I am glad." The words are correct. They are the right thing to say, but they taste bitter and wrong on her tongue. "I am glad," she tries again.

"Delilah," Laura says frankly, "You don't deserve to be in here,"

She looks up. "Why… _You're_ here," she points out.

"I am here to debrief you on information we were able to obtain about your history," Laura says. "Someone always has to do it. I volunteered."

Delilah feels something like a nervous chill run up her spin. "My history?" She notices then the navy folder clutched in Laura's hand at her side.

Laura nods once. "Logan –Wolverine informed S.H.I.E.L.D of Cerebro's broadcast and they were able to determine that the reason we have been unable to find you in the past is because the name on your file found at the F.O.H bunker is an alias," She opens the folder and holds up a paper Delilah has copied in her personnel archive. Delilah Carter information with seventy-three redactions: date of birth, birth town, known affiliates, nationality, etc., etc. "Carter is David Carter, an F.O.H fugitive. It was unclear what his exact position in the organization was, but we have reason to believe now that he is a technician and communications specialist."

"Who… then who am I?" Delilah asks.

"Does the word  _wolof_  mean anything to you?"

"It is a… an officially recognized language in –in Senegal, Gambia, and. Mauritania," Delilah responds at once, the information echoed from the rush of whispers in her ears. "Spoken by… by over four million people internationally,"

"There was a file in the F.O.H bunker, among others, that briefly mentioned a  _D. Wolof_ in the the organization's communications protocol. S.H.I.E.L.D ran a search through national archives." Laura holds out another paper, "Delilah Wolof, born nineteen-oh-six or seven. You arrived in the U.S from Senegal nineteen-oh-eight with your older sister Monique Wolof and settled in the Harlem neighborhood of Manhattan, New York."

"I… thank you," Delilah says, taking the papers and looking over them, memorizing them.

"Your sister may have been a mutant as well. In any case, she went missing about two weeks before Delilah Wolof reportedly dropped off the map. We're still looking for traces of you, but there was a large… underground mutant slave trade, at the time." Laura says, expression darkening in only her second display of emotion, "They had hired men kidnapping suspected mutants where they wouldn't be missed, and then sold. Somehow, the F.O.H obtained you, possibly from another organization, since the F.O.H arose officially in the late nineties… This is too much," She decides, perhaps noticing the wide-eyed expression upon Delilah's face.

"No," Delilah says dazedly, finding her voice. "This is… this is a lot, yet." She looks away, over to the blankness of one of the walls in the room. "It is nice," she says eventually, trying to put words to the way she finds it difficult to swallow, and how her heart is pounding. "I… I was not …alone, then. I had family."

* * *

Danger stands in the corner of the room Delilah is escorted into.

"I'm sorry," Delilah blurts out at once, "I'm sorry, I didn't know. I should have known there could be a virus programmed into my systems."

"I overlooked the possibility of a destruction mode program," Danger says, rejecting the apology.

"What?" Codename Wolverine, also present in the room with Agent Higgs, Wang, and Laura, looks over at Danger, who had up until then been standing motionless.

"My apologies, Logan," Danger says smoothly, "Delilah spoke to me technopathically. I was responding."

"Please join us, Delilah," Agent Wang says, motioning toward the open chair at the table they're gathered at. There are big black windows on two of the walls in the room; Delilah knows by now what they are. There is always someone watching.

"Recently," Agent Higgs announces, "We have received intelligence of F.O.H movement toward their original bases in California. Greymalkin was notified yesterday evening, and our agents in the San Francisco area are on high alert for persons of interest."

Delilah looks around the room, puzzled now. "Excuse me, what…what am  _I_ …"

"Delilah," Laura says quickly, "Do you remember when we originally found you and Josh Foley in the New Mexico bunker? You went through a sort of rehabilitation then, including work with some telepaths,"

"I uploaded archive footage for S.H.I.E.L.D databases," Delilah recalls.

"Many of the files and security footage from the bunker were encrypted," Danger says, "It was our original conclusion that they had been done so by an outside source and then stored in your mind during your use by the F.O.H as an intelligence system, however, in light of recent events, it is likely that the reason even I have been unable to decrypt the files is because you were the one to seal them. The key to recovering the data is unique to your mutant abilities,"

All eyes in the room are trained on Delilah, and she feels an odd, heated sensation in her face. "But I don't… remember,"

"Ya might not have to," Wolverine says. "'Cording to other technopaths, it's a lot more like just askin' the files to open for ya."

"It is similar to the way you 'asked' Cerebro for help when Elixir collapsed twelve days ago," Danger says. "In fact, you were controlling a part of my intelligence programming attached to Cerebro, so even without being telepathic, you were able to coerce Cerebro into broadcasting a telepathic message throughout Jean Grey School."

Delilah doesn't know any of this. It doesn't… it doesn't quite make any sense to her. Just asking? Could it be so simple? She knows numbers and queries –there are  _procedures_  that need to be followed… aren't there? "Where are the files?" she asks.

* * *

Delilah picks up one of the thumb drives and stares at it uncertainly. The storage unit cannot possibly respond, and she has no data ports. After a moment of consideration, Delilah opens her mouth and places the drive on her tongue, ignoring the panicked sound that Agent Higgs makes across the table.

The metal is briefly cool in her mouth, and she blinks and senses a voice, like a question far away.  _How to proceed_?

 _Open?_   _View files_?

There is nothing, and Delilah feels her heart thump strangely in her chest. Has she been wrong about this? Was she too arrogant in thinking—

But then it's there, a quiet  _Preparing archive footage 1% complete_ and it grows, too, louder and louder with each percent ticking upwards to one hundred.

Delilah begins to see flashes before her eyes— _October 1972, Welcome to Human Preservation Society Headquarters, August 1989… A woman screaming, arms growing longer and longer uncontrollably and_ "shut it down,  _put it down_ now," _... December 1999 and a blackout period and January 2000 systems back online, Welcome To the New Millennium… October 2001, Shut down._

_July 2005, Reprogrammed. Welcome to Friends of Humanity headquarter 19b._

_100% Complete. Archive Footage prepared for upload. Preparing . Find server for upload_?

Delilah startles slightly, coming back to her senses and looks about the room where the agents and X-Men gathered are staring at her wide-eyed. She clears her throat and turns somewhat stiffly to Agent Wang, "I think you will find that approximately five-hundred …thousand hours of footage are b-being uploaded to S.H.I.E.L.D's secure server SEC-TEN."

"I've taken the liberty of contacting J.A.R.V.I.S II to preview the data and eliminate footage with periods of inactivity," Danger says, almost immediately. She pauses and then adds, "And to categorize periods of footage based on facial and voice recognition programming."

"So, we've got all the videos?" Wolverine asks, "Just like that,"

_Preparing … 100% complete._

"Personnel records, as well," Danger says. "Agents, I believe you will find some of these documents to greatly speed up the trials of several of your prisoners."

* * *

_Time date stamp 6:09 A.M 12 August 2014:_

_"There's been some hold up with equipment acquisition. The team won't be able to make it until mid-autumn. Late October, maybe."_

_"Fucking… It's no matter. We've already started the conditioning. We'll just have the subject prepared beforehand, then. Has Hong Kong confirmed shipment arrivals?"_

_"Yes, and they want a second…"_

_Time date stamp 4:56 P.M 16 August 2014:_

_"Trial twenty-two. Activate remote trigger."_

_"_ Argh!"

_"Recording damage to cells. All variables infected, casualty rate one hundred percent."_

_"Alright, turn on the vacuum and cleanse the cell. That's it for today. Prep the subject for submergence in tank fifteen."_

_"Submergence, sir? But the trials…"_

_"I have business to take care of, and I want to be present for the future trials. The facility will be on standby until October when the new team arrives."_

* * *

Danger's projection continues to play on the wall, but no one is particularly paying much attention anymore. Agent Wang and Higgs have long raced out of the room, and Wolverine is speaking in quick, low tones to Laura, whose face is set grimly, but whose eyes are burning angrily.

Delilah watches the projection, which is playing trial eleven.

A man with his back to the security camera presses some keys on a control board in a room beyond an observation window, Josh's body convulses and then he stands. There are creatures in the room –rats and reptiles and a trembling woman with magenta skin. Josh walks stiffly toward the middle of the room, stops.

Another button pressed, and the man leans into a microphone and his tinny voice carries into the room under observation: " _Through me you go amongst the lost people_ ,"

In the room, darkness blooms across Josh's chest like blood, spreading across his body rapidly and there is a burst of dark-purple light around him.

The sound in the room is unrecorded, but distantly there is a scream through the observation window and the room falls on her side still clutching her head and covered in disfiguring dark lesions.

The animals don't move.

"Recording damage to cells," says the man in the video. "Casualty rate… ninety-eight percent. Variable A is still breathing."

"Turn on the vacuum," says a second voice, off screen. "Put the subject in cell four until it revives."

* * *

Agent Wang races through the corridors, and after years in the Department of Mutant Affairs, her colleagues have long realized it is best to sidestep her or force themselves flat against the walls. The effect is that as she runs up to the communications office, the agents in the hall part like the Red Sea, and she barrels down the hall unopposed.

"Call Greymalkin," she gasps at an alarmed agent in the office, "Get Codename Elixir to a secured P-Three lab  _stat_. He  _is_  the bio-weapon they've been working on."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Obviously Delilah's last name is not actually Wolof, but I imagine it was adopted by Monique when they arrived in the U.S. Re: Ellis Island officials hilariously misinterpreting ethnic surnames. ("...so... how about an easier name...")  
> *Headcanon: Generations of mutations in Western/European societies follow a socio-economic pattern of the region. Mutations in ancient civilizations are flamboyantly physical in parallel to pagan mythologies, for example (I feel like this would not be limited to Western/European societies). There are few powerful mutants during the medieval period, with only a couple of alpha level mutants developing along noble bloodlines. Much like some technologies, rate of mutant development decreases with the fall of western (Roman) civilization and also the Bubonic Plague kills off most of the European mutant population of the time. Mutations become more discrete and mental-orientated during the Renaissance. On a separate note, prior to western contact, there is a golden period of mutations in the Americas. Super headcanon time: a rapid increase of omega-level mutants ends in destruction for several first nation tribes, and mutant birth rates decrease rapidly long before western contact. Also, small physical mutations during the industrial revolutions; or, strength/physical enhancement mutations. During the Great Depression, mutations are mostly minor physical enhancements. Delilah’s technopathy mutation reflects the advancement of technology of the 20th century. Rate of mutant manifestations increase again with the turn of the century.  
> *Music Box Theatre is a theatrical stage in NYC that opened Sept. 22, 1921 on Times Square.  
> *The “Hello, World!” program saw its first use in the 70s, not 30s, but shhh. (“Hello world”) is often used to show beginner programs how syntax works in any given programming language.  
> *Taking into account 21st century inflation, $60,000 in 1934 is around $1.06 million (USD) in 2015.  
> *The first place Delilah gets taken to, the mutant slave trade, was vaguely inspired by comic canon where some organization holds auctions of dead mutant bodies to be sold to organizations. I think that particular instance was Mystique’s corpse being sold to (or maybe by) the Hand or something. I don’t remember it clearly.  
> *500,000 hours is approximately 57 years. Sidenote: Delilah is physically 31 years old, with the mental development of a teenager. As a note of her mutation that probably won't be written into chapters: her mutation allows her to survive without food/water if necessary because she is, in many ways, like a super computer, and without stimulus, she will go into sleep mode (which is what happened in the seven years between 1921 and 1928. She is 30 when she enters possession of an organization that figures out she is has technopathic capabilities, and is "put on ice" in a way, which pauses her aging process. Because her abilities are not so valuable until technology increases, she moves around to different organizations often, is put, essentially, in storage until the 70s when she is acquired by the Human Preservation Society, an early version of the F.O.H (this is not canon btw).  
> * “Through me you go amongst the lost people” is a paraphrased (depending on the version you’re reading) quote from Dante’s Inferno, Canto III. The last line of the dialogue (by Charon) is pretty infamous so you'll probably recognize it vaguely even if you haven't read Dante's Inferno:  
> “THROUGH me you pass into the city of woe:  
> Through me you pass into eternal pain:  
> Through me among the people lost for aye.  
> Justice the founder of my fabric moved:  
> To rear me was the task of Power divine,  
> Supremest Wisdom, and primeval Love.  
> Before me things create were none, save things  
> Eternal, and eternal I endure.  
> All hope abandon, ye who enter here.”  
> *P3 lab refers to the Biohazard Safety Levels. There are four biohazard safety levels but only fifteen facilities that follow P4 protocol globally whereas there are over 1,500 P3 labs around the world. However, P3 labs may have many of the same safety requirements, i.e, double door access, vacuum rooms, etc., as 4 labs.  
> According the cdc.gov:  
> BSL-3 builds upon the containment requirements of BSL-2. If you work in a lab that is designated BSL-3, the microbes there can be either indigenous or exotic, and they can cause serious or potentially lethal disease through respiratory transmission. Respiratory transmission is the inhalation route of exposure. One example of a microbe that is typically worked with in a BSL-3 laboratory is Mycobacterium tuberculosis, the bacteria that causes tuberculosis.
> 
> Alright, so on a scale of 1-10 how terrible was this chapter. I created way too many OCs with larger than necessary roles for this story, sorry.  
> Right, so, five chapters left. Thoughts? Hopes and dreams for the future?


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHA ok sorry for the late update. i'm shit at updating during the summer.  
> /ignores the fact that i began this series during the summer

_He cups Darren's face in his hands and the man is hopeful, he is sorry, he is blinded by the fantasy in front of his eyes._

I'm going to kill you _, Josh thinks to himself, hysteria bubbling in his chest. Or maybe it's just the pain, and the far away recognition that he is dying. He wanted this before, just for a flickering second, he considered it. Not now._ I hope this hurts _, he thinks, and he knows he is calling on something dark now, because he feels the heaviness of the toxic touch flowing through his veins, thick and hot, and he doesn't even focus on any particular disease._ I started this _,_  and I'll finish it, _he whispers to Darren's cells,_ Die.

* * *

_San Francisco, December twenty-nine, twenty-fourteen. I'm twenty-five. I'm alive. I remember._

Josh lies on his back, breathing in and out deeply and staring up at the ceiling long after he wakes up.  _I remember_ , he repeats to himself. "I remember," he mutters.

There is a note on the nightstand, when he sits up and looks around, and it says, in Julian's tiny, neat print: ' _10:30 left. Meetings and shit, back around 2? Event at 6pm.'_

Josh squints at the note for a moment and then puts it down again with a sigh. It's half-past noon anyway, and  _Christ_ , why does he still feel so tired?

He drags himself up a little more and swings his legs off the bed, staying there for a moment and absorbing the feeling of the empty room around him. There's something cold about it, and when he finally forces himself to stand up and look hit the shower, it's almost one o'clock.

Sooraya is surrounded by books in the commons when Josh gets there and she looks up when she hears him enter. "Good afternoon –or should I say morning?" she says teasingly.

He makes a noncommittal sound and shuffles over to the small connecting kitchen to dig up something to eat, and, feeling guilty for this response moments later, calls, "What're you studying?"

"I'm getting my Masters in Mutant Relations," she says, "I am getting a head start on a research paper that is due in April,"

"April?" Josh says incredulously, looking away from the contents of the refrigerator.

"I am on a semi-active roster," Sooraya explains, "Which still does not guarantee I will be able to do my school work at a reasonable pace. Therefore, I must plan ahead, or risk setting my graduation back another year."

Josh thinks, when he used to think about the future, he always assumed he would graduate from high school, go to college for  _something_ , and maybe save the world every other week. He thinks maybe he still have some odd hope for that life even after he found himself selling his body at nineteen and dying at twenty-one.

"Maybe I should go back to school," he finds himself saying.

Sooraya tilts her head thoughtfully, "As cliché as it is to ask, where do you see yourself in five years?"

Josh sighs deeply. "Hell, I can't even begin to imagine." But that's wrong, too, he thinks as a vague picture of some undated future blooms in his mind's eye. He sees a -an apartment or a house –nicer than he's known in a while. Getting up in the morning to go off to some job –a good job, one he is happy with. On the other side of the bed is –is Julian, he's certain, though some fearful part of his mind doesn't quite put a face to this future Julian. In this future fantasy, they prepare for the day together, take coffee in a kitchen across from each other, and at the door, kiss goodbye. And this is normal. Something about the image in Josh's mind whispers that this scenario is what is typical and he –he can't believe he can actually think of something like all that. It's so… settled, he thinks. Domestic.  _And is that such a bad thing?_  The thought intrudes with an edge of bitterness that sends Josh blinking back into the present, where Sooraya is still watching him, waiting for elaboration. "What about you?" he asks.

"Oh, that's simple," she says. "I see myself helping people. Based at one of the X-Corporation buildings –perhaps even at a new one, managing coordination of international mutant rights cases and or X-Corp public relations."

It's Josh's turn to stare. "That's… wow," he says finally. "You've got it figured out,"

Sooraya laughs, "Not even close," she disagrees. "But then, I think there will always be questions about the future that will go unanswered until you reach it. Don't you think?"

* * *

"Doctor Sawyer? This is Josh. It's seven, Eastern Time, right?"

"Yes, thank you for calling. How is it going?"

"Fine, I guess."

"How do you feel?"

"It's nice here.

"And how do you feel?"

"Okay, I guess. I haven't really been thinking about it."

"That's alright. How are things with Julian?"

He smiles faintly. "Good. Really good, yeah."

"Anything on your mind?"

"I think I've been… today, I dunno. I was thinking, I'm –I'm happy, I guess. But I've been thinking, like, what the hell am I doing?"

"You're looking for direction?"

"I never really thought about what I wanted to do before, but I wake up and I'm –I could do anything again. And now I have to figure out what that is, I guess."

"Have you decided on anything yet?"

"School, I guess. Laura mentioned I could get a scholarship, you know, for college once I finish high school."

"You want to finish high school, then?"

"Yeah, I suppose."

"And is there something you'd like to do other than school?"

"I want to… I want to travel, maybe. I've never been outside of the country except for missions. I want to see other places, meet people, you know?"

"That's a wonderful idea, Josh. Will you go with someone?"

"Yes. I think I will, eventually. I feel like there's just something I need to do first. I just can't –I can't think of what it is I'm supposed to be doing. I have this feeling like I've… forgotten something."

* * *

Julian grins and straightens Josh's tie. "The suit fits after all," he observes, running his hands over the shoulders of the jacket and smoothing out nonexistent wrinkles. "You look good."

Josh snorts and glances at himself in the full length mirror by the door of their room. "Do I?" he mutters. Beside him, Julian looks neat, dressed in his custom-fit suit. He looks confident, successful, and like… like Josh somehow always expected Julian to look.

By comparison, Josh looks in the mirror, and it's not that the suit doesn't fit –it does, rather well, being fitted to Julian –but when he meets his own eyes in the mirror, there's something… hollow about his stare. He blinks and forces a small smile across his lips. Barely a minute has passed. "You look better," he says, and sees the concern that had started to creep into the blue of Julian's eyes recede.

"Ready to go, then?" Julian says, "We'll be early, so I can meet with the event organizers, and then most people will start coming in around six-thirty to seven…"

 

"Julian." The word feels odd in his mouth, slow and drawn out. He blinks and tries again, feeling a frown spread across his face. "Julian."

"Yeah?"

Josh looks at him, really  _looks_  at him, and not for the first time, tries to find differences between what was and what is. There are only small changes: a more critical, experienced look to Julian's gaze; a slight, tired slump in the line of his shoulders when he's not at attention. His eyes are the same, blue and watching. Josh wants to say something, and have it feel significant, but he's not the dramatic sort or the serious kind of person who can come up with something suitably meaningful, so in the end, all he tells Julian is: "we didn't turn out so bad, did we, Keller?"

Julian's face twitches for a moment, like his features are at war over what expression to take on, but then he laughs shortly and claps Josh on the shoulder; "Yeah, I guess we turned out alright," he says.

* * *

The charity fundraising event is held in a building with the Stark logo on it, and when Julian and Josh arrive in the black sedan that had come to pick them up, they're greeted by several well-dressed event organizers, clutching clipboards and wearing nearly imperceptible earpieces.

"This way Mr. Keller," says one of them when they're barely out of the car. The small crowd of Julian's colleagues descends upon them with multiple concerns half turned to questions and comments and Julian turns to Josh with an apologetic look.

"Go ahead," Josh says, "I'll just look around."

"I'll find you later, okay? Wait for me," Julian calls, already being pulled away in another direction from that which appeared to be the main entrance of the building. "Just go through the front door –S.H.I.E.L.D'll let you through," With that, he's whisked away, and Josh is briefly on his own.

He takes in a deep breath.  _Twenty minutes tops, Foley_ , he tells himself,  _you've fucking got it._

There are a handful of photographers and journalists covering the event that are already setting up near the doors, but they largely ignore Josh, who is waved into the event hall by a S.H.I.E.L.D agent after a quick look-over with some kind of StarkTech headwear.

The charity hall is dimly lit and centered on two different holographic displays recounting the history and successes of X-Corp. Small high tables for drinks are set around the floor and there's a small stage and podium in the middle of the room between the holographic displays.

Josh watches one of the holographs for a while, watching as a holographic Xavier explains the importance of supporting the mutant youth. He thinks it must be taken from a video of Xavier's interview with Diane Sawyer years and years ago; he remembers watching part of the interview on television at the time of its broadcast.

Staring transfixed, he doesn't notice the stranger that approaches him until they've stepped into place beside him. It's a middle-aged looking man, maybe in his late fifties, with oval spectacles and short, black and gray hair. He's wearing a press pass around his neck and an ill-fitting tuxedo.

"You wouldn't happen to be Elixir, would you?" the man asks, eyeing Josh with a critical gaze. "Do you consider your appearance at tonight's event an official confirmation of your resurrected status?"

"What?" Josh says, taken aback. "Uh, I mean. I'm alive, yeah. You can quote me on that, I guess,"

The journalist chuckles. His dark eyes twinkle with something that Josh supposes is a reporter's greed for a story. "You wouldn't happen to be able to talk about it, would you?"

"Honestly, I'm not really sure what happened." Josh says. He glances around the room, wondering whether Julian's in the room, or if all of the business he's attending to is somewhere else.

"An official S.H.I.E.L.D statement released in November suggested that the body of a mutant, likely an X-Man, had been discovered in an illegal underground bunker in New Mexico, and witness accounts of the X-Virus death at Rockefeller three weeks ago has strengthened the rumor that that X-Man was you, Codename Elixir," the journalist pressed, "As a mutant with healing abilities, what is your view of the X-Virus, which surfaced around the time of your resurrection? Are the events related?"

Josh turns and stares at the journalist, a mix of irritation and anxiety bubbling up inside of him. "Look," he says, "As a  _human_   _being_ , I think the X-Virus is terrible. I know S.H.I.E.L.D and the C.D.C, as well as private scientist are probably working around the clock to figure out a solution to the outbreak. If they want my help, I'd be happy to give it."

The man stares at him for a moment and then nods quickly, "Naturally," he says, "Now that you've returned to the public eye, can you tell us what your plans are? Will you rejoin the X-Men? Which roster?"

"I don't have any plans," Josh says flatly. His gaze sweeps the room once more and even though he doesn't see anyone he recognizes walking in among the early arrivers, he says, "Excuse me," and steps back from the journalist, moving swiftly in another direction.

That direction turns out to be toward a smaller room that branched off the main area and furnished with several seating clusters around low coffee tables. Someone is already sitting alone at one of the tables, a laptop screen sending a bluish glow up to the ceiling. "Oh, I didn't realize you'd already arrived," David says, glancing up. "Where's Julian?"

Josh shrugs. "He had to take care of some things, I guess," he says, walking over and plopping onto the seat beside David, "What's that?"

David laughs self-consciously. "I was actually just getting a little bit of work done," he admits, closing the screen where there had been a multitude of data charts. "How are you feeling?"

Josh shrugs again. "Alright, I guess. Uh, how long do these kind of things usually go on for?"

David glances at his watch, "It's almost seven, now. So about four more hours, if you're here from start to finish,"

Josh sighs. "Any word from Laura about the F.O.H thing?"

He shakes his head. "She mentioned that she and a couple of S.H.I.E.L.D agents were going to talk to Delilah later, see if she can help them recover data from the F.O.H bunker now that she's been officially deprogrammed."

"Delilah?" Josh says. "The technopath, right?"

"Oh, I guess you wouldn't remember that," David says, frowning. "She's been at S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters in New York. She'll probably be back at Jean Grey's when you head back –you should meet."

"Yeah," Josh agrees, feeling a sudden lump form in his throat. "She –oh my God." He needs to thank her, he realizes. From what he's been filled in on, she'd been a captive of the F.O.H with him and at the time of his awakening, had been taken back to S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters for security measures. "Jesus," he mutters, running a hand through his hair. "D'you know if she's okay now?"

"From what I understand? She's finally good to go. I've never met her personally, but Danger seems to have given J.A.R.V.I.S a good impression of her. Personally, I'd like to learn more about her experience as a technopath growing up in the twentieth century. She was born in the early nineteen hundreds, you know…" David rambles. His own eyes have glazed over as he becomes lost in thought and Josh is almost about to interrupt when someone else beats him to it.

"Christ, Alleyne, do you come with an off switch?" Julian laughs, dropping onto the seat beside Josh and throwing an arm over his shoulders. "Hey. Miss me?" He teases.

"Who are you again?" Josh says, blinking with exaggerated confusion.

There's a moment where Julian's expression freezes, and then he rolls his eyes. "Real funny, wise guy," he says. "Hey, Alleyne, you know that you're here to mingle with the guests for Stark, right?"

"Shouldn't you be out being a good host?" David shoots back, even as he rises to his feet, folding up his laptop into a square that fits inside the inner pocket of his suit jacket.

Josh supposes he shouldn't have been so surprised –it's got to be StarkTech, after all.

"Do you want to hang out here for a while?" Julian says, after David's headed back out to the main room. "There's gonna be a lot of people out there soon,"

"I can handle it," Josh says. "And you have to do your host thing, don't you?"

Julian makes a face but then grins, "Come on," he says pulling Josh up to his feet after him. "There's a couple of people who'd want to see you again."

"Oh yeah?"

* * *

" _Dani_!" Josh exclaims, running the last couple of feet through the crowd and throwing his arms around her.

She hugs him back fiercely, "It's so good to see you again," she says. "Julian called me –said you'd be here."

Josh pulls away and looks down. "What happened to your leg?"

Dani looks down to her cast. "Oh, just a mission wound. We just got back a couple of days ago –otherwise I would've flown out to Westchester to see you." She sighs, and looks Josh over with a fond look in her eyes, "God, it's good to see you." She says again, and looks away, laughing self-consciously. "I said I wouldn't cry…" she says thickly.

"I'll leave you two to it, then," Julian says, from where he's been standing off to the side. "Think you guys can behave yourselves?"

"Go do your grown-up mingling," Dani says, waving a hand in mock dismissal.

"See you later," And Julian steps forward for a moment and pecks Josh on the lips, so quick he doesn't have time to react before Julian is disappearing into the ever growing crowd of the room.

"You know," Dani says slying, waggling her eyebrows at Josh, "If anyone ever told me all those years ago…"

"Yeah, yeah," Josh interrupts loudly, and, ridiculously, he feels his face start to heat up. He looks down as Dani snickers with delight, but she keeps the period of torture short.

"C'mon," she says, hooking her arm through his, "Anyone you know here is probably congregating at the  _bar_."

The bar is quickly identified as the part of the room with the densest crowd other than the showcase area. Dani pulls Josh along with one hand, limping briskly with a crutch under her other arm.

As it turns out, most of the mutants that have gathered at the bar are those who manifested following what had been the Battle of San Francisco and the second coming of mutant kind. Josh is introduced to a slew of mutants, all around his age or younger, and all obviously mutated. The X-Men he's familiar with are upper-classmen or former teachers, too, and Josh says a slightly awkward hello to Cannonball and Sunspot, who offer a couple minutes of small talk and, on Sam Guthrie's part, cryptic advice about the future –something about keeping an eye on doors of opportunity or something. He's cut short with a cuff to the back of the head by da Costa.

"Sorry about him," Roberto says, "It was his birthday last week –thirty years old, you know –and he has gotten it into that  _thick_   _skull_  of his that he is old now."

"You don't know what it's like," Sam sighs long-sufferingly and downing a flute of champagne, "Kids these days don't listen…"

"Is he drunk?" Josh asks Dani.

She squints at Sam and says finally, "You know what, I'm not really sure."

Sam grins widely.

* * *

The charity event draws into the night, with performances by local string bands in the background and several speakers periodically stepping on the small stage to give thanks and speeches about the importance of the event.

Josh glimpses Julian in the crowd a couple of times, nodding at whatever he's listening to, and two or three times they lock eyes, causing Julian's lips to twitch like he's holding back the urge to grin, or maybe make a weird face. For Josh's part, he doesn't exactly hold back on the weird face-making.

Around nine o'clock, Josh has wandered briefly away from Dani and the other X-affiliates in order to track down a caterer with some hor d'oeuvre –at this point, he can't say he's very picky about what it is he can find to eat.

He's just about to snatch a fancy cheese-and-cracker looking snack off a passing platter when he feels a tap on his shoulder and turns to find a familiar face. Josh frowns. "Oh," he says flatly, "Hi again,"

The journalist smiles, either ignoring or oblivious to what Josh thinks must be the obvious dislike rolling off of him. "I didn't manage to introduce myself earlier," says the man, holding out a hand. "Daniel Carson, from  _The Bigger Picture_. We're a website and newspaper focused on mutant and superhuman politics, based here in San Francisco."

Josh sighs. "What do you want?"

"Yes, I guess we'd better get to the point," Carson acknowledges. "Look," he says, lowering his voice, "I'm trying to get this piece –wait for it –look, I've got this angle, okay? I'm really just here to cover this event, but you –if I could just get a couple of statements from you… I'm writing an article about the case you've been involved with. I covered the mutant murders in California six years ago, and I think there's a connection between those murders and the X-Virus."

"What, me?" Josh says, scowling. Anyone with two brain cells to rub together could figure out the connections.

"Beyond you," Carson says. His voice has taken on a quick, excited pattern, and he's leaning far into Josh's space in order to speak quietly and be heard in the room. "Okay, just listen for another second. Maybe you don't realize it, but the public only get a couple of official statements from S.H.I.E.L.D for their missions. What we know about the bunker in New Mexico is pretty much everything that I asked you about earlier."

Locking eyes with Carson, Josh senses his own resignation, fueled by the reporter's own enthusiasm. "So what do you want from me?"

"Just a couple of yeses or nos, really," Carson says, "It  _was_  you who was discovered in New Mexico earlier this year, right?"

"Yes," Josh admits. His stomach abruptly growls, reminding him of the matter he had had been attending to earlier, and he glances around the room. He thinks, for a second, that he can see Julian and David entertaining a small gathering of men and women across the floor, but then the crowd shifts, and Josh loses sight of them. He turns back to Carson; "Alright," he says, "I'll talk to you –but only if you get me something to eat. I don't put out before dinner."

Carson's expression lights up. "Ten minutes," he says, "We can meet in the green room –it should be unlocked. Christ, thanks so much,"

"Sure," Josh says vaguely, and a watches Carson dash off into the room, presumably after a caterer.

He's left, then, to wonder where the hell the green room is.

* * *

Dani is talking to one of the mutants Josh met earlier when he finds her.

"Oh, Josh," she says when she sees him, "We were just about to get going for the night. Want to come with us?"

"Thanks," he says, "But I told this journalist –Daniel Carson or something –that I'd talk to him for a few minutes. Mutant stuff, I guess."

"Ugh,  _journalists_ ," Roberto da Costa says, appearing by Dani's side without warning. "Good luck with  _that_ ,"

"Are you sure you don't want to come with us?" Dani asks, peering at Josh with wide Concerned Mentor eyes that, Jesus, he hasn't been under that gaze for a while now.

" _Yes_ , mom," Josh says, rolling his eyes. "I'll be in town another day, I think. We should meet up later,"

"Definitely," She leans in swiftly, pecking him on the cheek before he can duck out of the way and cackles when he complains loudly.

It's odd, he thinks, watching her group retreat, the way his mood soars and dampens in quick, unpredictable flashes. Watching Dani go feels a lot like he's being drained of energy, and by the time Josh turns to find something resembling a green room, there's an odd sense of numbness in part of his mind that keeps him from really taking in what's going on around him. He wanders along the edges of the room until he finds an exit into a quiet hallway. It's not the same way he came from, and he stops a passing caterer and asks for directions.

He's pointed farther down the hallway, where he moves, taking in the growing quiet of his surroundings, the din of the event behind him fading into a warbled indistinct sound behind him.

The halls have been partly dimmed beyond the event hall, and after a moment of walking, Josh stops and sighs. What had the girl said? Fifth door on the right?

He turns back, but by now there's no one in sight.  _Fifth door on the right my ass_ , he thinks, looking between the blank wall on the left, and the hallway intersection on the right. "Not worth it," he mutters to himself, and his stomach rumbles again. Dammit!

There's a faint ache behind his eyes, the beginning of some kind of headache. Stress headache, he'll bet, but he doesn't like examining headaches too closely because they just –yeah, they just get worse. Definitely stress headache, though.

Josh closes his eyes with another sigh, a quieter one that might speak levels to someone about the exhaustion that's fallen over him –if anyone were around to hear it. He scrubs a hand over his face and opens his eyes and—

 

 

_There is a sea of bodies, naked and twisted, stretching as far as the eye can see, turning to ash, turning to—_

_There is a pile of bodies, bloody and disfigured—_

_There are no bodies—_

_There is a woman. A body, with eyes shot black with blood and skin bloated and pale. She stares up blankly at him, her healer, her destroyer. Her blond hair is fanned out behind her head—_

_"Laurie?" No, that's not right, that's –who is—?_

 

 

 _"What was_ that? _"_

_Hands, pulling him, pushing him, and there is a bright light that blinds him, but he can hear. He knows the voice, he's heard this voice before –hasn't he?_

_"It's actually very interesting, sir; it appears that the tissue scarring in its brain has healed over the past month, although its confusion also seems to suggest that its memories are regenerative –impossible, yes, that's what you'd think, but"_

_"-_ fuck _that. Put it down and sever the memory line again,"_

_"But sir"_

_"-when I say do something, you_ do _it, goddammit. Look, it's as simple as this" –there's a shadow, dimming the light, and in a moment of sudden clarity, the barrel of a shotgun—\_

 

 

_"Trial three. Recording damage to cells. Casualty rate… fifty-seven percent. Infection rate eighty-percent."_

_…Crawling toward him, arm outstretched, and dark black-red blood dribbling down her chin…_

_He blinks, and he's –where is he? A white room, and there's a black window just over to the side… he looks down and there's a woman and –oh God, oh God, oh God—_

_"Conditioning appears to have worn off. Turning on the vacuum…"_

 

 

 

"Josh!"

 

_Focus._

 

"Oh, hey," he says, letting himself smile as he takes in Julian's approach.

Julian smiles widely. "What are you doing all the way over here?"

"Looking for the green room, honestly," Josh says, "I was going to… well, whatever, I guess."

Julian reaches him, and wraps an arm around Josh's waist.

Julian is still grinning when Josh's eyes flick up to his, one eyebrow raised, but there's something in his eyes, and he leans close so that his face is mere centimeters from Josh's. "You look worried." He says.

"Got a headache all the sudden," Josh says, "Migraine, actually, I'm starting to think."

"Well it had to be something painful enough to distract you," Julian laughs. His eyes flash, bright with something Josh has never seen in them, and he frowns, a question on his tongue.

"Just a moment," Julian says, and he comes in closer until Josh can feel his breath on his lips, but then he stops, and huffs a small laugh. And then, he says, so softy Josh almost misses it: " _Through me you go amongst the lost people_."

And then there is nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooooooo  
> SOOOOOOOO  
> thoughts, i guess? i can't tell if that was a flaming trainwreck or not. of course, things will be explained by the end of the story.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this chapter is about 1k shorter than most the rest of them, so I apologize. I've got most of the ending for this series all planned out, and chose to cut this chapter shorter rather than make it a monstrosity of switching POVs. Anyway, next chapter will be split between to POVs again, depending on how I finally decide to format it. It's possible the ending will be split into slightly shorter chapters, which means we might head over the twenty-chapter limit I set out. 
> 
> Also, school's starting soon which ironically means I will probably update faster. Because I wrote most of these chapters during class, haha.
> 
> Questions? Rants? General comments? Leave 'em all below! :D

For a couple of seconds, David doesn't move an inch, holding one finger against the piece in his ear, and then he nods. "I understand," he says, and pulls the comm link from his ear. "Julian, we need to get Josh" –But when he looks over, Julian isn't there.

"He left after you took the call a couple of minutes ago," Ms. Edwards from NadirTech says, "He said something about having to prepare for a speech?"

"Thanks," And then David is tearing through the crowd, scanning the room for even a flash of someone resembling Julian or Josh out of the corner of his eye. He doesn't see even a glimpse of gold skin or Julian, who is slightly more difficult to spy, but not  _really_  because he's always had a – _presence._

He turns on his comm link again; "J.A.R.V.I.S, call Dani Moonstar for me, will you?" he says, still looking around. He makes his way to the speaker's platform in the middle of the room, just to get some height over the rest of the room.

Dani answers on the second ring, voice slightly slurred as she giggles out a "Helloooo?"

"Dani, it's David, I'm looking for Josh. Have you seen him? Where are you?"

There's a  _shush_  from Dani to someone else nearby and when she responds, her voice is a lot clearer, "I'm with a group –we just left the center ten minutes ago," she says. "Josh –I saw him before then, he said he was going to talk to someone, I think? Some journalist named Daniel Carson."

"Thanks, Dani." The name isn't familiar to David, who knows most of the usual reporters that cover mutant and super-human events. He's on the stage by now, and one last check around the room confirms that neither Julian nor Josh are in the room.

"Is everything alright?" Dani wonders.

"Only if I can get to Josh in time," David says.

"We're coming back," Dani says grimly, and then the line goes dead, and David has J.A.R.V.I.S connect him to the secure S.H.I.E.L.D line, where agents present for security at the event have fanned out through the building to search for Josh.

David relates the information on Daniel Carson to the agents, and at once there is a second scramble to search for the journalist.

"You have an incoming call from Ms. Ashida," J.A.R.V.I.S informs him not a second after he jumps down from the stage.

"What the  _hell_  is going on?" Nori shouts from his earpiece before David can so much get out a  _Now's not the best time_. "X called me from New York –said Josh is a  _biohazard_? What the fuck?"

"Yeah, well, we're looking for him right now. S.H.I.E.L.D is arranging transport for him to get to the old containment labs still set up on Utopia."

"But you've got to  _find_  him first,"

"Yeah, well," David says, "We know he was going to talk to a journalist –he's probably holed up in a room somewhere. Julian's gone off somewhere, too, though,"

"Has it occurred to you that they're probably off sucking face in a supply closet somewhere?" Nori says. "I'm just saying, check the broom closets." Her voice softens, then, "Need any help over there?" she asks.

"Well find him in no time," David assures. "I'll call you back when we get him to the lab,"

"Anything I can do?"

"Not right now," he admits.

Nori sighs. "Right. Stay safe, okay?" she says.

When the call ends, David tunes back into the S.H.I.E.L.D line to hear that no Daniel Carson is registered as a guest or as part of the press in attendance.

The head of the event's security, Agent MacDonald, has a team review the buildings security for the last hour to locate Josh, and while it's discovered that he disappeared down a dead-end corridor toward the green room and small conference rooms, the face of Daniel Carson is also identified.

"We've got agents bringing him in now," MacDonald says. "But we can't find Keller. Security footage shows him checking his phone and leaving the main event room ten seconds after you turn away to receive the S.H.I.E.L.D notice regarding Elixir. He exits through the lobby and moves toward the C-wing, and then he disappears."

"What? He just vanishes?" David says incredulously.

"What's the status of the C-wing?"

"No signs of Elixir," someone else says. "He walked just out of line of camera-5b and 5c is down until repairs scheduled tomorrow."

"The same thing happened to Keller," MacDonald explains, "Eighteen minutes later. We've swept the hall. No signs of either of them."

David exits the main event room, then, and finds MacDonald in the side hall leading to one of the entrances that has been blocked off for the evening. "What, so they're just"

"-Gone, or so it seems," MacDonald says, nodding. "We're going to check local traffic cameras. It's marginally possibly they just exited the building –there's a door out of one of the conference rooms."

"But where would they go?" David wonders.

"I guess we'll ask Daniel Carson." MacDonald says, nodding across the hall to where three agents are escorting a hassled looking man toward them.

Daniel Carson looks about as average and innocuous as any middle-aged white man in an old suit can look. He's talking a mile a minute as the S.H.I.E.L.D agents prod him on, and David catches the end of Carson's indignant explanations as he's brought directly before Agent MacDonald.

Then, Carson takes one look at MacDonald, realizes she's the pants of the operation, and starts over from the beginning; "Look," he says, "I told them, and I'll tell you, I don't know what's going on, okay? I was supposed to meet Elixir in the green room. Christ's sake, I was on my way there. If you just go and check, he's probably sitting there waiting –I have an alibi for –whatever, okay?"

"You're not on the list of approved press," MacDonald notes coolly, "Do you care to explain that?"

David notes that there's a nervous edge to Carson's chuckle.

"Alright," he says slowly, "Okay, there's a good reason for that… I…" He makes a face that says he has no lie to offer and he sighs. "Someone told me how to get a pass to get in."

"Someone told you?" MacDonald repeats incredulously.

"Someone paid me to come here with a pass that they gave me," Carson amends reluctantly. "They wanted me to ask Elixir some questions –it's a good opportunity, I couldn't re"

"-Someone?" David interrupts, " _Who_?"

Carson sucks in a deep breath and on his exhale, winces and says exactly what no one wants to hear: "I don't know."

There's a moment where David just stares at Carson, his thoughts feeling suddenly disconnected by the disbelief that is washing through him. " _And you didn't think that was weird_?" he bursts out, but he feels far away and it's like someone else has just shouted. On a different level, he still hasn't computed the reality of the situation.

Julian's missing, Josh is missing.

A prickling feeling is creeping up the back of David's neck, reminding him vividly of the moment he picked up the phone almost five years earlier to Nori, back when they hadn't been in touch for months at a time. " _David,_ " she'd said, a tired and grim edge to her voice, " _Josh is dead_."

 _Jesus Christ_ , he thinks now, only distantly aware of MacDonald growling something at Carson as she grabs him by the front of the shirt.  _Not again._

* * *

 

 

The Subject opens his eyes to screaming.

It is not the screams that he knows, agonized and terrified.

The Subject looks at the man that is shouting and for a moment, feels… something. He sees blue eyes –impossibly blue –lit with… anger. The man is bound, a power-inducing collar around his neck and chained to the ground.

"YOU BASTARDS!" the man yells, but he isn't… he isn't yelling at the Subject. He's shouting at someone beyond the Subject. "I'll kill you, I'll fucking" –his eyes land on the Subject then, and he stops, and something else replaces the rage in his expression. "Are you okay?"

The Subject rises to his feet, looking around, and finds that he is in a white, basement-level chamber and that there is a large black window on the wall behind him. In some part of his mind, this is not registered as odd; rather, the presence of the angry man puzzles the Subject. They usually aren't awake at this point of the trial.

"Hey," the man begins again, but then a panel on one of the walls moves to reveal a door.

The man that emerges is identical to the one already in the room, though his eyes glint differently, and there is a smug edge to his expression.

"What the  _fuck_?" spits the first of the doppelgängers, glaring across the room at his twin.

The second main raises his wrist, where a black watch sits just under the hem of his jacket sleeve. "Sneaky, isn't it?" he says, and, pressing a button on the watch, his skin seems to shimmer with blue light for a moment, before his face melts away to reveal a lined face and his hair becomes streaked with gray. The man is in his fifties, heavy set with dark, glittering eyes. There's something familiar about him, but the Subject does not know people, and the Subject does not know this man.

"It's an image projector,"

"I know what it is," the man on the ground snarls, "And who created it. What the fuck did you do to him?" He stares at the Subject, though he speaks to the second man.

"The F.O.H reconditioned it, Hellion," the man says sharply, "Your little raid on our bunker was only a small inconvenience. The Alpha Subject is of far more use to us than it is to you. Did you really believe you had freed it?"

"Him," Hellion says through his teeth, "He's not an 'it' –and he's not your fucking ' _subject_ ',"

The man glances at the Subject, and his lips twist with a hint of amusement. "Maybe not before," he says. "But then, it wouldn't know, would it?"

The Subject dully returns the man's look and he –it? –feels –nothing.

Hellion finally looks away from the Subject and his whole body seems to slump. He glares at his captor. "Why am I here?" he says quietly.

The man laughs. "Well, to act as witness, obviously. I think it's poetic. We wouldn't have gotten to this point if it weren't for your interference in our operations five years ago. You remember, yes? There was a small F.O.H field team that you brutally murdered." He spits. "Like animals."

Hellion's eyes narrow. "Sanders. Of course. You're big brother, then, huh? Gideon Sanders."

The man –Sanders –smiles thinly. "Clever. Of course –this isn't a revenge scheme. My brother's untimely death has given me –has given the  _Friends_  –opportunity on a scale never imagined before. Your little  _adventure_  only made us aware of those opportunities… of –."

"Elixir."

Sanders shrugs. "Elixir. Alpha Subject 003E92."

The Subject twitches, a single, bodily shudder running through his –its? –body.  _His_ body. That he knows, inexplicably:  _his_ body. He is… Codename Eli– Alpha Subject 003E92.

He blinks. Sanders and Hellion are still exchanging words.

Sanders is –he's laughing.

"So what," Hellion says through his teeth. "You want to use me as some sort of witness to all your evil bullshit, and then kill me last? Is that it? You really are some movie super-villain, huh? What're you gonna try and do?  _Nuke mutantkind_? Because people have tried –and they always fail."

Sanders's expression twists into something the Subject isn't qualified to read. Anger? No, something more nuanced than that. His nostril flare and his eyes narrow. "You would be wise not to underestimate the power of the F.O.H," he says firmly, tucking his arms behind his back and turning half away, "We have the technology to end the destruction your kind has brought to earth –and for our efforts we will be taking a victory for all of humankind. Your ruin will be brought about by your own genetic defect. Do you understand, Hellion?"

"What," Hellion snarls, "That you're  _monologuing_ at me right now?"

"Your 'Utopia' will be ground zero for our stand against you people," Sanders says sharply, and this finally seems to generate the response he wants from Hellion, who pales at the remark. Sanders smiles widely, teeth white and gleaming. "The last of our X-Virus samples are headed through San Francisco as we speak. I, for one, will be far away.  _With_  the Alpha Subject, of course. S.H.I.E.L.D  _did_ track down our international X-Virus samples, so we'll be needing the real deal when we visit that dreadful little school of yours. I do enjoy that you muties tend to congregate in one place. It's so convenient."

The Subject observes Hellion's reaction. After his initial response, he listened to Sanders's declarations with a slowly darkening expression. Now he looks positively murderous, and the Subject –the Subject does not understand this. Hellion should be –he should not be so defiant. He is captive.

He should be afraid, and yet.

Hellion turns his eyes from Sanders's back to the Subject, and the Subject stares back with a sense of curiosity that irritates him. No. It doesn't matter. What's there to be curious about?

The Subject knows that his face is impassive, and now he turns his gaze onto Sanders, who remains with his back to Hellion and his arms folded behind his back.

"Codename Pestilence," Sanders says.

The Subject feels a jolt of –something. Recognition. The words seem to trigger some effect; suddenly, the room feels cold to the Subject. Cold, and damp, and he smells the phantom scent of formaldehyde over weaker chemicals and –dirt. The Subject blinks and inhales deeply, attempting to dispel the sensation of this other room around him.

The real room is deadly silent, doubly so by the tension in the air.

Hellion is looking between the Subject and Sanders, who is still. Finally, Hellion says, "What?"

Sanders turns slowly, and his dark eyes are alight with a malicious type of glee. "Codename Pestilence," he says again, "That is all it is now." He looks directly at the Subject and beckons for him to come to him. "Our work begins."

 _Through me you go amongst the lost people_.

The Subject's chest seems to tighten and his body stiffens and moves fluidly all at once. He finds himself stepping forward without thinking, but he  _is_  thinking, he just can't –stop. Numbness creeps through his limbs and he is paralyzed and yet his body is moving, following Sanders toward the door.

_Look!_

The Subject forces his head, and turns to glance back into the room just as he reaches the doorway that has opened for him and Sanders. His eyes meet Hellion's and there is a single moment, as they stare, where the Subject almost – _almost_  thinks he knows—

The door begins to close behind him, and Hellion's eyes widen. He lunges forward despite his restraints and his scream is cut off only by the door as it slams shut: " _JOSH_!"

The word echoes in the Subject's mind, and he looks to Sanders, who has disgust written on his face. "So dramatic, these vigilante types." Sanders sneers. He turns away again. "Come along," he calls, and begins moving down the hall which is dimly lit and ends in metal door.

And again his limbs feel heavy and unmovable, but he walks forward anyway, swift and graceful. The Subject knows nothing. He does not understand his origin, his being, his purpose, but there is a part of him that whispers that is does not matter, and as he feels the numbness that has been spreading through his body finally steal over his mind, the Subject knows he is losing to that empty, unfeeling fragment within him.

The Subject fades with every step Pestilence takes, and the last thing he thinks is that there is something he should have remembered.

* * *

 

 

 _"_ _Am I dead?"_

_Laurie turns her head and looks at him, the sun shining a warm yellow light against her cheek. When she smiles, it spreads through her entire expression, and she takes his hand where it lies on the grass between them. "No," she says gently, and she sounds apologetic for it. "This isn't real."_

_He sighs and stares up at the sky, light blue and clear except for a scattering a wispy, white clouds. "I'm still in the lab, aren't I?"_

_"I'm sorry."_

_"Why did I dream of you?" he looks at her again. He tries to look into her eyes, but in the way of most dreams, it's impossible to concentrate on her face when he wants to. He doesn't know if he remembers the exact shade of her eyes anymore, anyway._

_"Because remembering me hurts less than thinking about him," she says softly. "I'm already at rest –it's certain."_

_They are quiet for a while, and a breeze blows through the meadow, sending ripples through the grass around them. He watches a pair of sparrows soar overhead, flying in playful circles with one another before darting away out of sight._

_"You have to wake up soon," Julian says, quiet where he lies in Laurie's place._

_Josh clutches his hand tightly and feels a lump forming in his throat. "Just a little longer, okay?"_

_Julian nods, and there's a sadness in his eyes –deep blue like the clear summer skies. Josh can look into them, and he smiles weakly. "We should've had longer."_

_Julian laughs once, and says bitterly, "When has anything ever been fair in this life?" His eyes search Josh's face, but the sunny meadow is falling apart, and Josh fights for it, tries to force it all back into existence. Julian's face is blurry, and he thinks_ no, no, no _and tries to bring him back._

_Focus!_

_But he can't conjure it all back fast enough and then—_

 

 

_"Who are you?"_

_"I'm… I…"_

 

_Sever the memory line. Start again._

 

_"Who are you?"_

_"Where am I?"_

 

_Sever the memory line. Start again._

 

_"Who are you?"_

_"I…"_

 

_Sever the memory line. Start again._

 

 

_"Who are you?"_

_"I don't know."_

 

* * *

 

 

_He opens his eyes, sharply aware of his own breathing, amplified in the small space he finds himself in. His is in a chamber, of sorts –a tank. There is fluid draining at his feet into a small hole that he can see is connected to a tube on the other side of the glass._

_He meets the eyes of the man standing outside of the chamber._

_The man says something. He reads the man's lips; "Who are you?"_

_A simple question. A test._

_He feels as though he has failed this test before. How he could know this, he doesn't understand. Where is he?_ Who  _is he?_

_The answer is the key to his success. He thinks carefully but quickly –this he knows he must do, or—_

_Something._

_He grabs for an answer. What is suitable? Words bubble to his lips, words he doesn't comprehend, words that almost mean something, but words he doesn't know._ Josh Foley. Fuck you.

_He says: "Nobody. What is my mission?"_


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, apologies for late updating, but yay! We're nearing the end!  
> This chapter is mostly filler, in that, things happen and also don't really happen at all. Like last chapter, it's a bit short than the usual chapter lengths (altho this chapter is longer than the last). Hope you enjoy!

_He is alone now, and time is running out, running fast. What can the man do? There is nothing. No ropes. Only chains. He cannot call for help. He has nobody._

_The doors are closed and there is a window but nobody is watching because he is alone. There will be death, if he stays. His own. That of the people he loves. Where is he? He cannot know. What will happen to him? He cannot know._

_But the girl knows. She can see his future in ways she has never seen anything before. She can live his life before he does and she can save him._

_Where is he?_

_The girl has known all along. She will call for help. She can save the man. She can save all of them._

* * *

 

 _Click_. Lights on.

Ruth always turns on the lights, not out of habit ( _Heavens_  no), but out of ritual. She sits up, pivots exactly forty-five degree to the left and places her feet against the carpet ground by her bed. Up, and then four paces straight to the door, holding out one hand to bump her knuckles against the doorframe and check how far to the left or right of her path she might have wandered.

Tap.

Perfectly on center, of course.

 _Click, click_. Lights on in the sitting room, off in the bedroom.

"Danger, the time?"

" _One-thirty-seven_   _A.M_ ," replies the cool voice.

Ruth makes her way to the door, hardly paying attention to the ten paces it takes to make it.  _Click_ , door open –she steps out into the hallway – _click,_ door shut.

Hisako's room is three doors down, past Idie, an empty room, and Cessily. Ruth moves swiftly and stops, turns –thinks for a moment –and takes a half step to the left. She reaches out and raps her knuckles against the center of Hisako's door.

She does so for exactly twenty-two seconds and then drops her arm and another second later, there's a  _whoosh_  as the door flies open.

"Ruth, it's one o'clock," Hisako hisses, "What's going on?"

"Can you drive me?" she asks.

There's a pause where Hisako is surely scrubbing a hand over her face. She sighs softly and says, "Ruthie, it's the middle of the night."

"Can you drive me to S.H.I.E.L.D?" Ruth amends, "Something's happened." She can practically feel Hisako straighten up. "I need to go now."

"Alright," Hisako says, "Let me get my keys and, uh, Ruth?"

"Yes?"

"Maybe you should change out of your pajamas."

Oh. Right.

* * *

Laura meets them in the lobby once Hisako has convinced the agents of their legitimacy; Ruth gets the vague sense of Laura's approaching aura before she says, "What did you see?" in a voice that tells Ruth that something has  _definitely_ happened.

"Nothing," Ruth says, "And everything. It was a …sense. Delilah is the key."

She likes Laura, because she has never paused in surprise at Ruth's words. She takes them in at once and says, "Come on." Her aura flickers in Ruth's mind's eye, moving off in a direction forty degrees left. Ruth follows.

"What's going on?" Hisako asks.

"The F.O.H," Ruth finds herself speaking up, "They have Josh and Julian. Where is Delilah?"

"They've been missing for an hour now," Laura tells Hisako off to the side. "No word."

"So we should go to California," Hisako says.

"We have men out there," a third voice says, "Our priority is protecting the mutant population of New York, which they'll probably target next. Hi, Agent Wang, Mutant Relations."

Ruth knows well enough the feeling she gets when it's hand-shaking time. She shakes Wang's hand, which is warm and dry. That's good. Ruth figures she can tell a lot about a person by the way their hand feels.

"Delilah's with Danger right now –she's been a great help, uploading key files we've been unable to access until this point," Wang tells Ruth, like she's a proud teacher offering points of achievement to a pupil's parent.

Ruth hardly spoke to Delilah at all. Delilah gave Ruth headaches when she was near, and made Ruth think backwards instead of forward, because Delilah's forward was her backward and –it was a giant circle, and Ruth had enough of giant circles when they weren't immediately life threatening. She'd categorized Delilah as Moderate Significance, and had trusted her mutation to let her know if something was going to Happen. That was always best, Ruth found; her instinct knew what was important, and often let her know when she started to think she knew better.

The future, Ruth had realized, was not something that wanted too much attention or thinking over. That's when it got upset and started doing things like  _changing_.

So Ruth didn't say much to Delilah, except to tell her not to ignore what she was remembering, and that was well enough. Delilah's on track now, Ruth thinks. She's moving forward without falling backward in time.

Ruth follows her sense of Wang down what she supposes are S.H.I.E.L.D's intimidatingly bright, long-stretching hallways. She feels Hisako and Laura trailing along behind, and counts her paces as she feels a sense of Delilah nearing, just about to intersect her future path.

A door opens before her.

"How's it going?" Wang says.

A mechanical voice –Danger –responds: "Data upload is ongoing. Delilah is extracting and decrypting the latest batch of files she has been able to find in her long data storage type."

Ruth enters a room after Wang. She taps the doorframe. Seven paces into the room, she follows her instinct to stop, and it's one of those moments where, when she opens her mouth, she feels like she's reading off a script. She doesn't know where her words are coming from, but she asks anyway: "Delilah, have you located Project Pestilence?"

"Calling object Project Pestilence," Delilah responds. "Reading object."

"Hold on, that's Josh's picture," Hisako says.

"Codename Pestilence," Laura says grimly. "That must be the name of their bio-weapon project."

Ruth sighs. They forget, sometimes, that she can't  _actually_  see anything. She's not sure whether to be flattered or not. "What is it?" she asks. "Is there anything beyond a profile report? There's always a profile."

"Sorry," Wang says, "We're getting a basic profile for Josh right now –it's the same one that the F.O.H have for him elsewhere. Next page of the file looks like… history of the project. It was established in 2011 –that'd be consistent with the F.O.H project reorganizations that occurred."

"It says Project Pestilence reached success in 2012," Laura notes. "But Josh was still undergoing 'memory augmentation' up until a couple of weeks before he was rescued. Why?"

"Josh... He called to me for help," Delilah says, "I think he… he did not know… they erased the tests of the projects. He believed he had not –that he had not yet been tested…"

"Wait," Hisako says after a moment, "They made up some back story for Josh to believe in case he got away? That doesn't seem right."

"It was always the plan, wasn't it?" Wang realizes, "To plant Josh back into society as a sleeper agent? They'd be able to enact Project Pestilence and release the X-Virus into society and he wouldn't suspect a thing."

"Yeah, well they fucked up that one, didn't they?" Another voice, coming from a silent corner of the room –it's Logan.

Ruth snorts. Yeah, they didn't get  _that_  one to work out as smoothly as they wanted.

"The… F.O.H –they didn't take into account the full capabilities of –of Elixir's self-healing abilities," Delilah says slowly. "In previous cases, memory has not been …known to return, necessarily. Even after the healing of brain…"

"Tissue," Laura offers quietly.

"Yes."

"This doesn't help," Hisako says, "We still need to  _find_  Josh and Julian, if they're missing."

"I know." Ruth finds herself saying. It's one of those times, when her words begin to bubble up without her knowledge. "I can find Julian. Delilah, come here."

"Ruth, you're not a telepath…" Hisako says, confusion coloring her voice.

"I know." But there's a thin line, sometimes, Ruth thinks. Sometimes the future is so close it's pretty much right on top of them. Then again, with Delilah, the future is backwards. Everything that is about to happen, she has to look back to understand.

Ruth reaches out and her hand meets the top of a chair. She sits and holds her hands out, palms up. She'll be the first person to denounce any of that mystical hand-holding requirement B.S for precognitive assessments of a person, but this time, she thinks it'll help. "Well? Don't leave me hanging, Delilah," she says.

Delilah places her hands over Ruth's, her skin cool and smooth and with that nearly-soft texture that Cessily's got.

"Alright," Ruth says eventually –and, really, she can just  _feel_  everyone in the room watching. "Let's do this." She takes a deep breath, and feels the world melt away around her.

 

* * *

_The building is F.O.H unit CA-011, acquired in 1996. They don't use it for much. They can't. There's not enough agents, and the reorganization has left some F.O.H property unaccounted for._

_Not CA-011, thought. It has been in use for almost twenty years now. It is the rebirth site of Pestilence. It is Hellion's graveyard._

_No. Might be._

_No. Won't be. Can't be._

_He's alone in unit CA-011, that's certain. But there are… there are shadows approaching._

_A woman blasts down the door in a flash of blue light. Voices. "David, over here! He's here!"_

_Relief. Panic again. "They have him –Sanders –he did something –and the X-Virus –Utopia –quick—"_

* * *

 

"Hellion has been secured," MacDonald reports over the comms link.

There are voices on the other end, several people speaking at once, and between the  _how is he_ s and  _is he okay_ s, David is sure that he picks out a smug "what did I say?" from Ruth.

"Agents are on their way to Utopia," MacDonald declares, "Local law enforcement has been notified to set up blocks at the docks. Utopia is on lock-down."

"Julian, slow down!" Nori's shout from outside draws everyone's attention.

There are agents still checking the refurbished storage unit for trace evidence of the F.O.H, but besides a couple of papers, they've come up with nothing. MacDonald motions for her people to continue looking and she and David head outside.

There's a long hallway from the cell Julian was being kept in to the main corridor of the storage facility. Storage units in the nearest vicinity are in the process of being opened by S.H.I.E.L.D agents, who give little notice to David or Agent MacDonald as they rush past.

Julian and Nori are outside of the facility, lit in the night by the swirl of lights coming off the couple of police cruisers parked nearby with the dark, nondescript S.H.I.E.L.D SUVs. They're standing feet away, facing off like they're readying for a fight.

"There's already people on the way, Julian," Nori says, "S.H.I.E.L.D can take care of Utopia's defense. Come on, Keller. You need to let someone from medical check you out. The team here can take care of Utopia…"

"He did something to Josh –like,  _mind control_  –and" Julian yells. His eyes are darting around the lawn, from Nori to David and MacDonald and back. He's panicking.

"We know, Julian," Nori says. She's speaking slowly, calmly. This is the voice she uses to talk people down from ledges and edges and all sorts of places hysterical civilians can find themselves. She gives David a sharp look;  _give me a hand here, Alleyne._

David can see Julian's body starting to shake. He's breathing loudly, taking quick, shallow breaths. He staggers back a step.

"Julian," David calls out, "Take a deep breath, alright? Focus on the sound of my voice." He moves forward carefully, making deliberate, predictable movements until he's just feet away from Julian.

"Julian, we figured out what's going on. Project Pestilence. The F.O.H did something to Josh, we know. We'll find him, Julian. Okay?" David waits, let's Julian do with is words what he will.

Julian's watching him with wide, bright eyes, like a scared animal. He's sucking in uneven breaths and there's a thin sheen of sweat covering his face. Still, he nods, trembling.

David takes it as a good sign, and continues, "Now listen to me, Julian. You could be injured. You need medical attention. We can get you a backup pair of gauntlets from Greymalkin. Alright? Tomorrow you'll fly back to New York. And we'll be looking for Josh the whole time."

Julian half nods before he doubles over, gasping for air so loudly, everyone looking on takes a step forward, but he holds up an arm in something that might've been an  _I've got it, give me a second_  gesture. Slowly, his panting subsides and he straightens up.

"Julian," Nori begins.

His expression is impassive. "I'll go to Greymalkin," he says, "But I want updates on Utopia." He says, looking past David to Agent MacDonald.

"Of course," she says.

"And the first flight to New York tomorrow –or today. Whichever it is."

"Naturally."

Julian looks around, his face cast half in shadows, and there's something angry that comes over his expression. Or maybe –not angry. Determined. Defiant. "We're not losing him," he says, and it reminds David of the day before, at lunch, and Julian's  _they're not getting him again_. "I'm not losing him again." Julian turns away, and walks away from the storage facility and into the night.

* * *

 

_51 Months Earlier, Chicago…_

 

_The apartment is cold as all hell and Cessily wonders how anyone could stand to live there. She hovers in the doorway of the cramped living space, taking it all in._

_There's one room and a closet-sized bathroom off to one side. A bed is down from the wall, two old blankets rumpled atop a sagging mattress. There's a packpack in one corner of the room, and a duffel bag next to it. With a sinking feeling Cessily realizes that this is it. These are all the thing Josh and Julian have. Had. Remembering Josh –remembering that he's –he's_ gone – _it makes Cessily's head spin. It's odd, she thinks. She hasn't seen him in weeks. What's the difference?_

_"Julian…" She trails off, unsure of what to say. When Brian died, she knew exactly what to say; she swore, loudly, to anyone who would listen. She screamed that it wasn't fair, it wasn't right._

_That was years ago. A lifetime ago, it feels like sometimes. Now she just stands, silently, eyes dry. She feels tired –bone-tired, like she'll never be anything_ but _exhausted. Maybe she's still in shock. She wants to laugh, she wants to cry, she wants to do_ something _–scream, shout –whatever. Anything to relieve the tight feeling of hysteria that's bubbling up in her chest._

_Julian has his back to her, sitting on the bed with his elbows resting on his thighs and his hands clasped together in front of him. His head is bowed, and if she didn't know better, Cessily might have thought was praying._

_"Are you… are you okay?" she asks, and feels stupid even as she hears the words coming out of her mouth. What kind of question is that?_

_"You don't have to stay," he says._ Go away,  _he means. He sighs. "I'll come to the school tomorrow," he adds, for Cessily's sake, and_ Christ _, she doesn't know what to do. She takes a step forward, and stops, a feeling of nausea washing over her. She turns around, and when she walks out of the door, she feels like she's running._

_Laura decides to stay in Chicago with most of the other X-men to help deal with the fallout of the Angel Maker case and it's nightfall when Cessily and Megan return to the school, wrapped in miserable silence. They share a weary look and part way, Megan trudging up the hall to the dorms. The school is quiet and the corridors dimly lit, and Cessily finds herself wandering into the staff room._

_Her coffee is still sitting on the counter where she left it, cold now from hours of neglect, and she stares down at it._

_"_ Shit. _" Before she can quite think about it, she's picked up the mug and flung it across the room. It shatters against the far wall, exploding in a splash coffee and porcelain. "Shit." She says again, breathing heavily as she watches the remains of her latte trickle down the beige wall. Cessily swallows hard against the lump that's formed in her throat and abruptly her legs buckle beneath her and she sinks to the floor._

 

 _At some point, she falls asleep, and she dreams of Darren Jurney's shouts –_ we had something, we had something – _and Josh's outstretched hands, turning black and deadly. Then there's nothing at all, just stretches and stretches of silence that seems to echo nothingness all around her, and—_

 

_"Cessily."_

_A hand on her shoulder startles her awake and she blinks blearily and sees Santo and Victor standing over her, where she's apparently fallen asleep on the floor of the staff room. Jesus._

_"Megan said what happened," Victor says, face set in a grim expression. He helps her to her feet. "Laura called. She and Julian are flying in this afternoon after they make arrangements for the… for Josh's body."_

_She nods numbly and looks up at Santo, who is uncharacteristically quiet._

_"How was he?" Santo asks._

_"You know Julian," Cessily sighs._ He shuts us out.

_Santo gets it and they walk to breakfast without any more words._

_The other students seem to have picked up on the general moroseness from the upperclassmen, even if they don't know what's happened, and the cafeteria is subdued that morning._

_They end up gathering at the same table that morning, the class of X-Men at Jean Grey's that lived through M-Day and the Purifiers and everything that followed. There's less than a dozen of them altogether, and there's a sharp awareness between them all that they've lost another old classmate._

_Cessily fidgets through her classes that day, her mind blanking through her lectures and her notes scattered._

_At lunch, Julian, Laura, Logan, Emma, and Dani arrive._

_Josh's body arrives in a close coffin from a funeral parlor in Chicago the next morning, and when Emma suggests in open-casket funeral, the look Julian sends her is so withering that nobody brings up the question again._

_Cessily and Hisako take care of sending out the funeral announcements to X-Corp members of Charles Xavier School, Utopia, Greymalkin, and anyone between who might've known Josh._

_Cessily agonizes over an email to Sofia, or to Sofia's last known email, because that's all she has after all this time._

Sof, _she eventually writes,_

I don't know if you'll even see this in time (or ever), and you wouldn't believe how terrible I feel to come bothering you after all this time only to be a bearer of bad news. Even if you don't get this email, you'll probably read about it in the news. Josh passed away on Sunday and we're holding a funeral this coming Thursday at the school. It would mean the world if you could come.

Love,

Cess

 

_Sofia shows up that evening, and God, is she a sight for sore eyes. They'd been roommates for two years before M-Day, and even on opposing training squads, they'd always been friendly. Sofia was a natural leader, confident, compassionate and quick as a whip._

_Her cropped hair is sticking up on end and her cheeks are rosy from the cold and she stands in the lobby with wide eyes. "I got your email," she says simply, and Cessily throws her arms around her, holding onto Sofia like she would a lifeline._

_And then she's crying, sobbing, really, in a way that would be embarrassing, any other time. "I'm sick of this shit," she mumbles into Sofia's shoulder. Everything in the last three years –it's worn her down. She thought, with the opening of Jean Grey's that she would be able to –that everyone would be able to build up some semblance of a normal life. She was just a couple weeks from getting her GED. Then she was supposed to go to college, and –and no one was supposed to_ die _anymore._

 _"I know," Sofia said quietly, rubbing circles into Cessily's back. They stand together in silence until Cessily can rein in the tears to manageable sniffling. She steps back, putting her hands on Sofia's shoulders and taking a good look at her. "You look good," she says. "I remember that stuff in the news –what you did with the New Warriors a while back… I'm sorry I didn't…"_ I don't want to lose anyone else,  _Cessily wants to say,_ I have to keep everyone close right now –I have to be sure.

_Sofia simply says, "I know." She smiles, tightly, which is meant to be comforting, but there's a pitying sort of look in her eye, just barely there next to real grief. It's the half-haunted sort of look an onlooker of a disaster gets, when they saw tragedy coming from far away, and couldn't do anything about it._

* * *

_On the morning of Josh Foley's funeral, the mansion's guest rooms are full, and Ruth is surrounded by_ senses _of people she knows –from vaguely to well enough –and naturally it's a little overwhelming to be watching out for them all. It helps, of course, that people tend to give her a wide berth._

_The funeral service is set for mid-day, and classes have been suspended, which is the best part of the whole affair, as far as many of the students are concerned. Half of them will show up to the funeral out of respect, another quarter will come out of morbid curiosity. The rest will stay in the school, generally unconcerned._

_Breakfast is a loud affair, with the number of visitors and the number of X-Men still just arriving. Ruth knows a large portion of them don't know Josh, might not have ever met him before, but the X-Men, regardless of what team name they fall under at any given time –they have a way of showing up to see their own laid to rest. Too often, they don't get the chance to even bring the bodies home._

_Halfway through her toast, Ruth feels a_ tug _, the sort that she knows she ought to follow, and she stands, excusing herself from her table. She wanders out into the hall, passing by Sofia Mantega and Julian Keller, who are in hushed conversation._

_Soon, she realizes she's set on a path to the small room off the lobby that has been cleared and cooled for the purpose of holding Josh Foley's coffin until the service. She pauses in the doorway, thinking about the last time she went to a funeral. It had to have been at Utopia, after the Battle of San Francisco. The arrangements had been rushed, she remembers. There hadn't been much planning –no, there'd been other things to think about._

_"Ruth?"_

_She doesn't move from the doorway. The tugging, nagging feeling hasn't gone, but it's dulled now._

_"Ruth, yuh alright?" She senses Miss Rogue backtrack from halfway down the hall, as if she's thought better of leaving Ruth to hover in the room for the dead. Rogue is at her shoulder now, probably looking on past Ruth. "Somethin' on your mind?"_

_"Nothing," Ruth says._ I had a feeling _. "I was just thinking. The flowers are nice." It's true. She catches a glimpse, then –a black casket being carried across the ground, a wreath of flowers on top of it, white and lavender blossoms that will begin to shrivel from the winter air before the eulogies even begin._

_Rogue places a gentle hand on Ruth's shoulder. "C'mon," she says, "Let's not keep the door open too long."_

_Ruth lets Rogue lead her away, and she hears the soft_ whoosh _of the room's door close behind them. The faint tug in her gut doesn't really go away, but Ruth can't know what it means, not right now, and so she files away the feeling, and once Josh's coffin is buried six feet under, all she can do is forget about it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fear that I might have been a little over sentimental/dramatic with this chapter, but I guess that's for the readers to decide. In any case, what did you think about the multiple outsider POVs? Don't worry, it'll go back to Julian's POV soon. You know what's funny though? I've already written the ending to this fic. I know. What the hell. This monster is coming to an end. Now I just need to fill in the space between now and then. :0


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Haha does anyone even remember this fic.  
> RIGHT, so first off: apologies for the almost three month update delay. This chapter's slightly longer than most, so I hope that at least makes up for it a little bit.

1:24 A.M PST – 30 DEC 2014

CURRENT LOCATION: UNIDENTIFIED S.H.I.E.L.D HOLDING CELL, GREYMALKIN INDUSTRIES

RECORD OF DETENTION

NAME: CARTER, DAVID

DOB: 11/09/1957

AFFILIATION: F.O.H, TECH EXPERT, BIO ENGINEER

ARREST NOTES: Prisoner apprehended in SanFran Bay w/ items of interest (LOGGED: ITEM P-45); may have been sent as a decoy –recommend exploiting this scenario. Recommend charging prisoner for crimes against mutantkind, domestic terrorism, accessory to intended genocide.

* * *

Julian's flight touches down at JFK just before noon, and S.H.I.E.L.D sends a car and five agents to pick him up.

"It's not me that needs protecting," he says when he arrives at S.H.I.E.L.D headquarters and is greeted by Agent Higgs in the garage. "What're you doing with Carter?"

"The situation on Utopia has been secured," Higgs reports. He gestures for Julian to follow, and leads the way into the building to the card-access elevators. "It's shaping up to look like Sanders meant for the attack on Utopia to be his smoke screen. If it had been successful, all relief efforts would be focused there"

"-but it wasn't," Julian says.

"Right," Higgs says. "And we have Carter –Sanders' right hand man, we're thinking –but he hasn't said much."

"He doesn't know anything?"

"Sanders seemed to be keeping most of his plans to himself."

"That Carter guy's the one who messed up Delilah, isn't he?" Julian says, stepping into the elevator after Higgs. The agents that accompanied him to headquarters fall back, watching the garage as the elevator doors close.

"He appears to be the lead bioengineer for the F.O.H, yes," Higgs says. "Agent MacDonald is continuing the interviews with Carter, but he's not saying much for obvious reasons. As far as we can tell with Delilah's access to F.O.H data, the object of Project Pestilence is as simple as wiping out mutantkind."

"Great," Julian says. He pinches the bridge of his nose with a sigh and leans against the wall panel behind him. "What about Sanders and Josh? Any sign?"

"No."

The elevator arrives on their floor with a soft _ding_ and Higgs steps out onto the landing. For a moment, Julian stays behind, breathing deeply, focusing on the inhale and exhale. _Christ_. _What a fucking mess._

"Mr. Keller?"

"Yeah. Coming."

* * *

A small council of grim-faced X-Men are engaged in a heated argument when Julian and Higgs arrive to the conference room, but Julian only catches the tail-end of Hisako's "…because that worked out so well in the past!" before everyone notices his entrance and abruptly stop talking altogether.

Logan, Agent Wang, Danger, Hisako and Laura are on their feet, while Ruth and Delilah seated at the conference table.

"How ya holdin' up, Keller?" Logan says.

Julian shrugs. "I just want to get this all over with."

"Jean Grey's is currently one of the most secure places to be in the country. We've got agents on the lookout for Sanders all over the country," Agent Wang says. "The F.B.I and Homeland Security are on alert as well."

"You'd think it'd be easier to find Josh, with the way he looks," Hisako adds, shaking her head. Her expression is pinched, a wrinkle-nose, narrow-eyed look she gets when she's eager to jump into action. There's nothing for them to really do at the moment, however, and the fact of that matter has the air of the room thick with tension.

"Sanders has image-inducer tech," Julian says, recalling, "When... I woke up, after he snuck up on me –or someone did, anyway –he had my face on."

"He must have hacked a facial recognition network at some point," Wang says, scrubbing a hand over her face, "Stark has them built into the security of all of his buildings and…"

"The Manhattan X-Corp buildings are all owned by Stark Industries," Laura finishes, frowning. "Sanders and Pestilence could look like anyone. We have Josh's bio-signature on record, so we could set an alert if he were to enter any area with bio-sig monitoring technology, but his signature is different for each mutation phase. Pestilence may very well be a new, Delta-phase mutation, completely different from Josh's Omega-phase."

"Hold on," Hisako says, "It's still _Josh_ in there—"

"No it ain't." Logan's interruption comes quietly, and he adds nothing more, pressing his lips together in a grave line. His gaze flickers over and his eyes lock with Julian's, trying to say, without saying, that there's a worst case scenario here, and Julian better be ready for it.

The room falls into a pensive quietness and then Danger says, "Agent MacDonald has communicated that David Carter has accepted a plea bargain which will require him to give up organizations and individuals connected to Project Pestilence and the distribution of the X-Virus."

"Plea bargain?" Delilah says, suddenly on her feet. She's glaring, which is the most emotion Julian thinks he's ever seen from her.

Danger's expression doesn't change in the face of Delilah's anger. "He will never be released from prison," she assures, "His names will merely keep him out of the Fridge and in a regular maximum security prison."

"I'm gonna be there," Delilah declares, "At that man's trial." There's something different about the way she speaks now, Julian observes. There's a cadence, a lilt to her words –something old, something personal. She sits down again, trembling, and Julian recognizes her anger, and thinks he starts to see the strength that has kept her together all these years, and helped her splinter from the F.O.H's control.

"In the meantime," Agent Higgs says, "Agent MacDonald will be releasing a statement to the public later today regarding the attempted attack on Utopia. Sanders is targeting mutants; the public should be aware." He glances around the room, but no one objects.

They watch MacDonald's press conference on the television, and when she begins fielding questions from the journalists present, Julian says, "I'm going out."

He ignores their stares.

Julian knows there's probably an agent tailing him as he makes his way out onto the busy street in front of the S.H.I.E.L.D building, but he doesn't look around. He goes to a convenience store around the corner, and buys a pack of gum, and a pack of Malboros, which he clutches between his hands later, sitting on the floor against a wall in some part of the S.H.I.E.L.D building he doesn't quite recognize. He doesn't want to smoke –even that act reminds him— Christ, he needs a fucking stress ball or something. He's got a glob of gum in his mouth, the unholy combination of four sticks of peppermint chewing sticks, and he chews, jaw working furiously, until the flavor is muted, and his mouth feels numb. Elsewhere in the building, he knows that the assembled crew of X-Men and S.H.I.E.L.D agents are chasing even the vaguest of leads, and finding nothing. The truth is that there's nothing that they can do.

And Julian is just sitting there, wondering why it always goes wrong, why he always has to wonder why it always goes fucking wrong, and he feels useless in a way he hasn't felt in years.

* * *

It takes a moment when Julian wakes up to remember why he's upset, and he calls his gauntlets over and scrubs a hand over his face. It's like before, waking up every day and remembering that Josh was dead, was buried six feet under in the Memorial Garden –only, he hadn't been, of course.

And maybe, Julian thinks as he sits up, that's why it stings so much this time around; not only has Julian fucked up in his ability to protect his friends, his fucking _family,_ Josh is gone – _again_ –and this time Julian _knows_ he's not dead. He's just –gone, and there's something else, something formed out of death and decay, that's inhabiting his body.

Julian doesn't let himself hope –he just _can't_ , but he thinks, if he could just _see_ Josh one more time… that would be enough.

His anger has retreated to somewhere deep inside of him, and guilt is what drives him now. Julian's closet is full of skeletons, and all he knows anymore is that he has to keep on going, keep on going through the motions. That's just what X-Men do. He doesn't have time for rage or despair right now. He's an X-Man, twenty-five years old, world-weary, and still a kid, really, but there are bad guys to fight, and so Julian get outs of bed in the S.H.I.E.L.D Central dorms, washes up, and puts on a pot of coffee in the first breakroom he comes across.

He takes two cups of coffee down to the conference room the team occupied the day before, passing S.H.I.E.L.D agents who're just arriving for the day, and who don't pay him any mind.

Delilah is sitting at the table like she never left, and when he hovers in the doorway for a moment, he sees her blink, like she's flickering to life, and she turns to look at him.

"Good morning," Delilah says when Julian comes over to sit down next to her.

"Hey." He slides one mug across the table. "There's two sugars in there. I didn't know how you might like it."

Delilah smiles a little, and the pleased look is unfamiliar on her, but another sign that what S.H.I.E.L.D's done, whatever's been repaired in the structure of her mind –it's been for the better. It makes her look a little more human. "I don't know, either," she says, and adds, "Thanks, though," and they drink in silence.

"Any leads?" Julian says eventually, wincing a little in recognition of his own lack of hand in that regard.

Delilah doesn't comment on his absence for most of the last day, though. "Not really," she says, "Dr. McCoy has been working with Dr. Rao and Dr. Nemesis to create a cure for the X-Virus. Dr. McCoy said that they are having... having trouble with creating an effective vac... an effective cure. Josh's X-Gene is... it is difficult to stabilize. The doctor said that creating the X-Virus is easier than creating its cure."

"Of course," Julian mutters. They return to a comfortable silence, and Julian glances at the clock in the corner of the room. It's not even seven o'clock yet. There's no point in calling Nori or David to check up on the situation on the West coast, since they're probably still asleep, and calling Cessily... while it's a distinct possibility that she will be awake by now, knowing her morning schedule, Julian isn't too keen on the earful that he might get from her. Cess means well, but she frets, and Julian's guilt has a way of flaring up whenever he figures he's part of the reason Cess is probably going to go prematurely gray. He doesn't know what he'd say to Cessily. _"Hey, I fucked up again"_? _"Remember that time I couldn't save Josh? Well you'd never guess what just happened..."_?

Julian knows it's irrational, but he can't face his friends, sometimes.

"I had a sister," Delilah says.

Julian blinks, and looks over.

She's staring at the table in front of her, her nose scrunched ever so slightly and her eyebrows drawn together in thought. "I had an older sister. Monique. I don't remember her... that much. I remember things from the bunker. I've started remembering things about before, too. If I... if I try, I think I could be the ...the _me_ from before. The girl who grew up in -in Harlem, before 'mutant' was a word we knew. When we were just _freaks_." She pauses, gathering her thoughts, and Julian wonders where this is going. "My sister's name was Monique. She was beautiful, I remember that. She could see the future –and other –other things, I think. She told me once, before she disappeared... she said she saw a light –a light at the end of a lot of dark. I think that it has to mean... it has to mean something." Delilah looks up finally, meeting Julian's gaze.

And he realizes then what she's trying to say, what comfort she's attempting to offer, without making promises she can't keep. Julian forces a smile. "Delilah," he says, "You know, I've never –shit, I've never really said thanks for everything you've done, have I? If it weren't for you, we wouldn't know have the stuff we do about the F.O.H. And I owe you –seriously, the other week when you called for help when Josh" –he swallows hard -"I was frozen. It's a good thing you were there. I probably would've lost it."

Delilah smiles and begins a modest reassurance, before her eyes go wide and she stops.

Julian goes on high alert right away and his eyes sweep the room once. There's nothing. "What?" he says.

"The lost people," Delilah cries, jumping to her feet.

"What?"

" _Through me you go amongst the lost people_ -the trigger phrase for Project Pestilence," Delilah says, "The lost people! Julian, Sanders would not attack Jean Grey's at a time like this, when he knows that security around the school will be concentrated. He is going to Chicago,"

"What does that have to do with lost people?" Julian frowns. Delilah is already halfway out of the room and he races after her, struggling to make sense of Delilah's revelations.

"The mutant community famously includes underground groups of outcasts known as Morlocks. _They_ are the lost people," Delilah says. She's making for the elevators, and once inside, presses a button for the seventh floor.

"Sure," Julian says, "But the Morlocks live in New York, not Chicago."

"There once were seven major Morlock communities throughout the world," Delilah says, words coming fast, "New York City, Chicago, London, Dubai, Cairo, Mexico City, and Paris. New York's Morlock community is no longer the largest due to infighting, but Chicago's community has grown. As of the last five years, they've moved out of the literal underground, and so right now, Chicago has the largest obscure mutant population in the United States: an estimated five hundred individuals. Eleven percent of the world's mutants."

"How do you know all of this?" Julian blurts, thinking almost immediately, _oh right_ —

"Super computer," Delilah says.

There's a moment of pause and then the elevator doors open, and Delilah is running again, surprisingly fast for someone who hasn't been physically active for the last several decades.

The Department of Mutant Affairs at S.H.I.E.L.D has been greatly downsized since its peak years earlier, when its offices occupied over two floors of the central S.H.I.E.L.D building. Now, while still politically influential, the department's space of operations is limited to twenty offices on the seventh floor.

Agent Wang is in her office when Delilah bursts in, although from the way Wang flails, she'd been dozing off at her desk. She looks up, dark circles under her eyes and her face pale in color. Like Julian, she hasn't changed out of her clothes from the day before.

"Sanders is targeting Chicago first, not the mutant schools," Delilah says. "Aside from San Francisco and the schools, Chicago has the largest mutant population in the western hemisphere."

Wang stares at Delilah, bleary and uncomprehending for a fraction of a second before Delilah's words sink in. To her credit, Wang gets to her feet steadily and asks, "Do you have any idea _where_ in Chicago Sanders may be targeting?"

"The Lower West Side," Julian says, just realizing. _Christ_ –he'd once been living in the heart of Chicago's mutant town. "Around the area the X-Virus first broke out."

"There?" Wang frowns. "Why return somewhere the F.O.H already had the chance to attack?"

"Sanders has Project Pestilence now," Delilah concludes, "In isolated form, the X-Virus can only spread through fluids –Alison Kumpar only spread the virus to one other mutant. To target mutants individually is inefficient –even congregated in a geological region, they are spread out."

Wang snorts. "Well, thank God the F.O.H has the _moral standards_ to not just poison the entire water supply," she mutters, drawing a cellphone from her pocket, she swipes at the screen and puts it up to her ear, then glances up at Delilah and Julian. "What? Get moving. Chicago's not going to survive on its own, you know."

* * *

Business hasn't been the best, lately.

It isn't Ali and Mollie's deaths that are keeping the patrons away, either –it's the publicity that followed it.

Ivan's dealing with a 17% profits decrease and it may not seem like much, but he knows it's going to add up if he doesn't do anything soon. He supposes it helps that there are two less employees to cover. Jesus, Ivan should probably keep that bit to himself.

Around noon, Ivan trudges downstairs to take his usual smoke break. The alleyway out back is deserted, not even the bums daring to risk the late winter to huddle around outside.

Ivan sits on the stoop in front of the door, smoking and thinking. It's been almost two months since his business took a hit. Should he move after all or hope business picks up again? He needs to get in touch with his niche market –advertise or some shit. He needs a new attraction. Ali was a favorite. Damn.

He goes inside after half an hour, his fingers and nose numb from the cold, and he sits at Clockwork's bar to take his lunch. The place is pretty much deserted, so when Ivan hears the door open, he glances up. "Hellion?" He hasn't seen the kid in years, not since he got caught up in the murder shit. From what Ivan understood, Hellion had gone back to his cushy superhero lifestyle. Typical. Thing is, though, Hellion raked in a pretty good amount of cash in tips –for a waiter, anyway.

"Don't think you're here looking for work, huh?" Ivan calls, half bitter. Little shit didn't even put in two week's notice before leaving.

By now, Hellion has moved across the room and is standing just feet away. He's dressed in a suit under his winter coat, and his telltale floating hands are hiding under long sleeves and gloves. Hellion eyes Ivan thoughtfully. "I'm here on business," he admits. "X-Men stuff."

Ivan deflates. "This ain't about Ali n' Mollie, is it? Or Isis? We're legal, you know."

"Isis?" Hellion repeats. "No. No, but –that gives me an idea. See," he explains, sitting on the stool at the bar next to Ivan, "I'm here because we –the X-Men –S.H.I.E.L.D –we need to warn the mutant community of Chicago… I can't really say anything more, but it's not exactly –easy. You wouldn't know any way to _gather_ them, would you?"

Ivan snorts. " _I'm_ no mutant. Who knows? Half of 'em think I'm scum –you know the drill, you all think I'm some pimp. I remember the look you used to care –don't matter, of course. I'm just doing business." Or _was_ , if the profits don't turn up soon. Ivan sighs. The girls upstairs are running through their routines for later, and he ought to be going back up to check on them –make sure they're not fucking around while he's out. Ali's not around the keep 'em in line anymore, after all, and Ivan doesn't exactly trust the competence of her replacement. "But hey," he says, "you could always try going door to door in your old neighborhood down the block." Ivan snorts again. "Good luck with _that_."

Hellion scrunches up his nose but nods. "I'll get out of your hair. Isis still has the same hours, doesn't it?"

"Nah," Ivan says. "It's two to three. No business at noon, you know."

Hellion stares at Ivan emphatically, blue eyes darting form Ivan to the clock he knows is behind his head. "Alright," Hellion says.

"There a reason you came in?" Ivan wonders.

Hellion gets to his feet. "Not anymore," he says, turning for the door again.

"Sure you don't want your old job back?" Ivan tries one more time, and the glare he receives in return in withering. _Well, fuck you, too_ , he thinks.

Hellion exits Clockwork, his coat swishing behind him and Ivan is left at the bar with his half-eaten club sandwich and cheap beer, and the bartender has disappeared into the back room. There's no one else around and so Ivan heaves a sigh and clambers to his feet, ready to head back upstairs.

The walk back is quiet, but that's expected. Isis is soundproofed like nobody's business, and even the music the girls are practicing to wouldn't be heard until someone was standing on just the other side of the door—

 _The door_!

Ivan stops in his tracks and stares at it. The door is ajar –wide open, actually. There's no music, after all. He rushes forward with a cry, and stops just feet through the door, gagging. It's the smell. Christ, it's rotten. Coppery blood and stomach bile and something else, something like decay.

The lights in the club are dimmed in preparation for opening hours, but there aren't any patrons in –nor will there be, Ivan thinks, hysteria setting in. His girls are all collapsed all across the room, disfigured and bloody— dead.

* * *

Time… slips.

Ivan thinks he screams at some point –he must have –because Hellion has rushed into the room and is shaking him, grip tight on Ivan's shoulders.

"What happened, Ivan?" Hellion demands, " _Ivan_."

Ivan's eyes focus. He's on the ground, huddled in on himself. He mumbles: "They're… they're all gone…" He's fucking ruined. _Fuck_.

Hellion looks over his shoulder to a dark-skinned girl standing in the doorway.

"They've been here," she says, "They can't be far. We need to warn the mutants."

Hellion glances around the room. "No pulses," he says, almost to himself. He turns to the girl; "Can you call the police? And make sure the staff downstairs doesn't go anywhere." he says, and she nods, disappearing down the hallway.

"No," Ivan startles, "No, not the cops!"

"You didn't do anything wrong here," Hellion reminds him. "We know you didn't kill the girls, but what happened? Do you know where they went?"

"Where who went?" The girls? They're dead –definitely dead.

Hellion frowns. "What _happened_ , Ivan?"

"I just came in here after lunch," he says. "You left, I came up here and" –Christ, he thinks he's gonna be sick. He focuses on Hellion's face to keep his eyes from wandering over the bodies around him.

"Me?" Hellions says, eyes narrowing. His eyes are a particular, deep blue color that stand out from his dark hair –a contrast patrons have always liked –and the colors matches his rumpled button-down shirt – _wait_ , his-?

"Who the _fuck_ are you?" Ivan says, scrambling back, "Who the fuck was _he_?"

Hellion grabs Ivan by the front. "Ivan," he hisses, "Have you seen someone who looks like me today?"

 _Jesus_ , what's going the fuck on? Ivan stares.

"Ivan!"

"Y-yeah," Ivan says, "You came into Clockwork less than half an hour ago"

"-Where was I going?"

"I dunno –I don't! Your old neighborhood, maybe?" Ivan tries. The grip Hellion has on his shirt front is causing the back of his collar to dig into his neck. "You –he was looking for the mutants, too! He said it was X-Men business!"

" _Fuck_ ," Hellion says, jumping to his feet and yanking Ivan with him. He drags them half way down the hall to the staircase and stops. "Stay here," he says, "Wait until the police come, tell them to contact S.H.I.E.L.D. This is a S.H.I.E.L.D code M-X-31 situation, you got that? M-X-31." And then he turns away and runs down the stairs, pressing a hand to his ear. "This is Hellion, I think I know where they are. I'm on the move."

Hellion disappears through the doors at the bottom of the stairs and Ivan stares after him numbly, thinking that nothing bad ever happened to him before Ivan found the kid in the alley all those years back.

* * *

Henry knew that he should've just gone local, because after exiting the expressway to find Lily and Howie somewhere to go to the bathroom, he'd gotten turned around somehow, had taken a left where he shouldn't have, and now they're somewhere in the Lower West Side district of the city, and GPS was being more unhelpful than usual.

At some point, Henry had turned down a side street thinking it would connect him to the main road he'd followed earlier, and now he's driving around listlessly in a downtrodden-looking neighborhood full of half-lit signs and caged shop windows. What has he gotten himself into?

In the backseat, Howie has fallen asleep, but Lily is awake and quietly looking out the window. She has the present they bought Aliyah Grady for her birthday in her lap, and Henry is the _worst_ if Lily and Howie miss _cake_.

They stop, arriving at a traffic light, and Henry sighs and drums his fingers against the steering wheel. From the cup holder, Siri offers an unhelpful, " _In three-hundred feet, make a U-turn,_ "

Henry is on an empty, one-way street, but he looks around for somewhere to possibly U-turn, anyway, and his gaze falls on a familiar figure hurrying up the street.

The last time he spoke to Julian was to say a stilted farewell almost three weeks earlier, after Josh regained his memories.

The light turns green and Henry speeds ahead, pulling onto the shoulder of the road and parking. "I'll be back in a second, honey," he tells Lily, "Stay in the car." He jumps out of the car and hurries around the front onto the sidewalk. "Hey," he calls, "Keller!"

Julian whirls around and stares at Henry, a look on his face that says _are you fucking kidding me_ , like he can't believe his bad luck.

"What're you doing here?" Henry asks, "Is everything alright?"

"Get back in the car," Julian says. He doesn't move from where he's standing.

"Is this…?" _Is this a superhero thing?_ Henry hasn't noticed anything wrong in the area, and Julian seems to be on his own.

"Get back in the car," Julian says. His voice is stern and his posture tense.

Henry nods and backs toward his car. He can see Lily peering curiously through the window at him, and he looks up and down the street once more, trying to assess what the threat is, if there is one. He knows Keller is trustworthy, that he cares, that he will do what's right –but Henry can't see the threat, and he doesn't know what's going on.

He gets back into the car.

"Daddy, who's that?" Lily asks at once.

Julian has started moving again, and is jogging toward a run-down apartment building. He disappears into an alley beside it, and Henry contemplates reaching for his cellphone and calling the JGS number he's been given, just to see if they know what's going on. "A friend, honey. It looks like he's busy right now, though, so you'll have to meet him another time." He wonders how Josh is doing. He'd been meaning to call over the weekend, but—

"Daddy," Lily says, "There he is again… look!"

Henry starts the car, glancing back in the rearview mirror. "Yes, Lily," he says, "You'll have to say hello another time, he's busy"

"-And Uncle Josh," Lily says, "Look, there's Uncle Josh,"

Henry's heads snaps sideways and there –sure enough –is Josh, though at first Henry doesn't quite recognize him. He's in what Dr. McCoy referred to as his omega mutation phase, black skinned and white haired. The last time Henry saw Josh like that, Josh was lying motionless in a hospital bed.

Henry gapes and in the short time between him looking over and reacting, Josh has slipped crossed the street and is heading into the alley on the other side of the very building Julian just entered.

"What's he doing?" Lily asks.

There's a feeling in the pit of Henry's stomach that tells him something's wrong. This isn't just a mission. He revs up the engine of the car and thinks _fuck traffic, the street's deserted_.

Henry rolls down his window as he approaches the building. "Josh?" he calls, "Josh, what's going on? Are you alright?"

His words don't seem to register with Josh, who walks with a single-mindedness down the alley.

Henry jumps out of the car, calling again, "Josh!"

"Uncle Josh!" says Lily, who's run out after Henry.

Josh stops –freezes, really –and swivels around. He's dressed terribly for the cold of January, wearing a white dress shirt and pants, but his breath frosts evenly in the air in front of him, as if he can't feel the cold at all.

"Christ, Josh, what's going on? I just saw Keller –he said there's some mission –but you're…" Henry trails off, in part because Josh hasn't said anything at all, but mostly because he's close enough to see the vacant look in Josh's eyes. It's different from the blankness of having no discernible pupil –Lily's eyes are all yellow, so Henry thinks he can see the emotion in them that others can't always and Josh's eyes are fucking _empty_ , like there's no one inside.

"Uncle Josh?" If the slight tremor in Lily's voice is anything to go by, she's realized the same thing.

Josh –or whoever he is –takes a step forward, and Henry's blood runs cold. He instinctively reaches out and grabs Lily by the arm, pulling her close to his side. _Lord, what have I done?_

And that's when Henry hears the _whoosh_ of something flying through the air above, and a blur of green light streaks down into the alley, crashing into Josh and knocking him back off his feet.

Julian straightens up first, one metal handing clasping the front of a dazed Josh's shirt, and he half turns to Henry and Lily.

"Get her _out_ of here," Julian snarls, and Henry doesn't think twice, tightening his hold on his daughter and whirling around to flee.

They're out of the alleyway and halfway back to the car when Henry hears it –the sharp _pang!_ of gunfire, and Lily's cry of surprise. Then he feels the sting of the bullet passing through his chest, and distantly he knows that his legs have collapsed beneath him. Lily slips from his grasp as he falls, colliding with the cold, hard ground.

He hears the crunch of ice and snow a familiar voice: "You should have listened to me." But it doesn't matter. He can't breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Argh!! No Henry why!!! you should've stayed in the car!!!!!!
> 
> Haha, okay, so that happened. Thoughts? We're drawing to a close here pretty quickly. I'm considering adding a twenty-first chapter, but that depends on how the next chapter goes in terms of how many events I can fit in without changing the POV as much as I did in this chapter. To be honest, I'm kind of relieved to be able to wrap this goliath of a series up. It's been a great experience --I've certainly been able to see improvement in my writing since I began this, and I credit this fic with helping me really hone my plot writing and character development abilities. 
> 
> But you know what the end of this fic series REALLY means? 
> 
> TIME FOR ONESHOTSSSSS


	20. Chapter 20

Julian whirls around at the sound of gunfire and moments later, Sanders appears at the mouth of the alley, wearing Julian's face and holding the little girl –Henry's daughter –tightly by the arm. Henry is out of view, and silent, if there's the chance he's still alive.

There's an ugly sneer on Sanders's –Julian's –face, and then it flickers, giving way to the man beneath the disguise. There's a Glock in his hand, the end of the barrel pressed close to his hostage's temple.

The girl is trembling all over, and Julian wishes to God he knew what her name was so he could say something encouraging. As it is, he's stuck. Pestilence is rapidly regaining awareness, and Sanders is far away enough, with the gun close enough to the girl's head that Julian can't trust his own reflexes or precision to save her from a bullet.

He knows Delilah was a little ways back, following him, but he can't sense any fast moving people in the immediate area, and he doesn't know when she might arrive, or if she will. So Julian goes for distraction.

"You know," he says, "You never learn do you? You should have killed me when you had the chance."

"Oh, we'll get to that," Sanders sneers, "Pestilence. Neutralize the local X-Gene."

Beside him, Pestilence is staggering to his feet, pushing Julian away even as his gauntlets and telekinetic hold is still firmly attached to the front of Pestilence's shirt. Julian feels a flicker of movement nearby, out on the street, and he turns back to assess the threat of Pestilence gaining awareness over Sanders pulling the trigger of his gun, deeming Pestilence the greater threat when it becomes apparent that he has indeed returned to full cognizance.

Julian gives Henry's daughter a look that he hopes conveys _it's going to be alright_ , and at the same time telekinetically locks in on the air around Pestilence's neck, putting him in a chokehold. For a moment, it's enough to throw Pestilence off, but then he lunges for Julian anyway, evidently choosing to disregard his own wellbeing.

Julian sidesteps Pestilence and shoves him back with a telekinetic shield, trapping him between the shield and one of the brick alley walls. Behind him, Sanders is shouting a warning, but Julian _has_ to risk it –he has to make sure he _tries_.

There's an energy coming off Pestilence that Julian can feel telekinetically when he focuses; it's like there's a muted crackling around Pestilence, as if his black skin is shifting and reacting with the air around him, and for a second, Julian places the sensation as something comparable to the energy that comes off of Cessily will she shifts forms. He scratches the comparison almost immediately; the aura around Pestilence is completely unpleasant, and it almost seems like it's –it's sucking Julian in. It makes Julian's skin crawl. _He doesn't have that power_ , he tells himself firmly, but he concentrates harder all the same, sending a greater surge of power through his hold over Pestilence.

It's taking longer to knock him out that Julian knows is right, and with alarm, he wonders if Pestilence is drawing on some part of his biokinesis to help him stay conscious –a part of the ability that Josh never touched. There were a lot of aspects of his abilities that Julian always thought Josh never used. _Are_ , he thinks. _He's still in there somewhere_.

To the side, Sanders roars as if in pain.

 _Pang_!

Julian's concentration shatters, and his telekinetic fields shoot back to his body.

For a moment, Julian's ears ring, but he feels the wild burning in his side that tells him he's been grazed by a bullet. He turns, expecting to be looking into the mouth of Sanders's gun, or else see that Henry's daughter has been harmed while his attention was way. Instead, he sees Delilah standing in the mouth of the alley, a confiscated gun in one hand and Sanders sprawled across the pavement. Henry's daughter is standing a little bit away, shock on her face and her indigo skin glowing violet.

At her feet, Sanders is noticeably singed, and briefly, Julian wonders what the fuck the little girl's powers even are, and whether or not she in fact manifested them in the last two minutes. He doesn't have long to dwell on the question, though.

"I'll take care of him," Delilah says, and then her eyes widen, "Watch out-"

Julian whirls back around just in time to see Pestilence spring at him, and he dives to the ground, rolling out of the way before jumping back to his feet.

There's a distinct air of determination to Pestilence now, as if he's been angered, and Julian's sure he's not imagining the way Pestilence's skin appears to be moving, darkness swirling across his face and his arms and moving in a way that every so often reveals a speck of gold below.

Pestilence is a mask, Julian realizes; it's a poisonous suit that has been forced over Josh's benign Beta phase, possessing him like a parasite. Julian just needs to find a way to break the suit –but there are other things to worry about. For one, Pestilence is still on a kill mission, even with Sanders incapacitated. He centers himself after missing Julian once, and then lunges again.

This time, Julian is prepared.

When Pestilence launches forward, Julian stands his ground and lashes out with his mind, encapsulating Pestilence in a glowing, green telekinetic hold. Then, Julian does the thing he's best at: the rash thing that borders on stupid; he yanks Pestilence forward, entering the telekinetic bubble and clutching Pestilence to him before shooting straight into the air.

 

The moment he presses his body to Pestilences, his skin begins to sting where it touches Pestilence's –deeply sting, as if he's come into contact with acid –but Julian locks his gauntlets together behind Pestilence, guaranteeing that, regardless of how much Pestilence struggles, he won't be able to break Julian's hold.

They're shooting upward at around fifty miles per hour, and Julian can feel pressure building around the shields he has up around them. He slows their ascent, pulls them to the side, and begins a downward trajectory toward city limits.

Adrenalin, Julian thinks, might be all he has at this point; it's dulling the pain of holding onto Pestilence, though he can tell, by the violent way the skin on the back of Pestilence's neck is swirling –as if his skin is trying to jump right off his body –that he ought to be in a world of pain right now.

They crash into a forest area –some kind of park –and maybe it's something about crash-landing back to earth that has Julian's pain sensors finally catching up to his body. His vision blurs, black spots forming in front of his eyes, and he thinks this is what it must feel like to be on fucking _fire_. His body is screaming for him to –to _do_ something –scream, run – _anything_. He can barely stand to open his eyes with how they sting, and his head is fucking _pounding_. Still, he doesn't let go, because that's all he can think –that he can't let Pestilence out in the open, not when Julian doesn't know what Pestilence's range is.

Julian clings to the part of him that can sense his shields, and he forces them up even more, until, even with his eyes closed, he can sense that he's trapped Pestilence and himself on the ground under a dome of crackling green energy –energy he builds on with all he's got, making the air around them heavy with the containment shields.

His hold on Pestilence, meanwhile, has loosened, and Julian feels Pestilence push him off. He doesn't give up much of a fight, rolling onto his side. The sharp pains wracking his body have begun to subside into a dull ache. He's going into shock, Julian thinks dazedly, even as he feels the hot, metallic tang of blood rising in his throat and filling his mouth. It's an out of body experience, in a way, realizing he must be hemorrhaging, and that he must be blind, because _fuck_ , he can't tell if his eyes are open or not. It's not a blackness that he sees –it's just –it's some kind of gray in-between. His chest feels like it's being fucking _crushed_ and he can tell he's slipping now, that soon his shields will falter and vanish as he loses consciousness –what, from blood loss? No, he's just –dying. Yeah. _Fuck_.

Julian's sense of the world around him is shot to hell, everything a loud, displaced blur, and he thinks he hears the familiar hum of the Blackbird zooming in from the distance, but no –he can't hear anything at all. His eardrums have burst.

Suddenly he wants to laugh, and maybe, he thinks, maybe he deserves this a little, somehow. Hell, he's always figured there was something terrible that he'd managed to avoid all these years. Yeah. Death.

His heart is racing now, working frantically, and then he feels a shot of anxiety, and a moment of breathlessness where his heart clenches –stutters –his breath catching in his chest –and then the world give away, not to black, but to a pure, blinding nothing.

.

.

.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

* * *

 

 

**_F.O.H LEADER, DOMESTIC TERRORIST GIDEON SANDERS CAUGHT AT LAST!_ **

 

_\--_

_"…Chicago Sun-Times reporting sightings of a mysterious figure, a young black woman, possibly in her early thirties, at the scene that S.H.I.E.L.D agents descended upon this afternoon. Insiders at S.H.I.E.L.D deny that she's a known superhero, leaving us to wonder where this vigilante hails from, and whether she is the hero responsible for taking down anti-mutant terrorist, Gideon Sanders…"_

 

_\--_

"… _sightings of a large, green glowing dome of unknown origins on the banks of the Chicago River earlier this evening._ _Eye witnesses report seeing a green mass hurtling out of the sky and landing near the riverbank before growing to the size of a tank. Minutes later, the X-Men were seen landing at the sight and the green dome disappeared. Two bodies were seen taken aboard the X-Men's aircraft known as the Blackbird. There has been no word on whether this event has any relation to S.H.I.E.L.D reports that the F.O.H fugitive known as Gideon Sanders was captured. This news comes less than twelve hours after S.H.I.E.L.D's announcement to the mutant population to be on the lookout…"_

 

 

\--

 

 

It's like a switch has been flipped when Josh wakes up, his eyes flying open and the rapid beeping of his heart monitor filling his ears. He flails upright, dragging tubes with him as he goes, his hand coming up automatically to yank the N.C tubes out from under his nose, and finds himself facing a literal curtain of white.

The hospital room he's been placed in is dimly lit and the bed beneath him feels stiff, which means he must be at S.H.I.E.L.D Medical rather than the Med Lab at Jean Grey's.

The curtain to his left is drawn back, and standing there is none other than Agent Wang, and Josh thinks he could cry just then. Everything's flooding back to him, clear as day, from the first day, waking up in a suspension tank in a lab in a bunker, to waking up in a hospital bed, inexplicably missing part of his memories. He can remember the days in between as one dark blur, and then another wave of memories overtakes him: memories of the X-Virus, and ice skating, and –and remembering _again_ –then Julian and _I love you_ and San Francisco and –with a shudder –he remembers Pestilence. Not the details, but the knowledge, the vague recollection of seeing the world through the Subject's eyes –it forces a shudder through Josh's body.

"If you can't calm down, I need to give you a sedative." Wang's voice cuts through everything like a knife.

Josh blinks and finds that his hands are shaking over the bedsheets and that his heartrate is elevated. "Sorry… I'm –I'm good," he mutters.

Wang smiles gently. "Can you tell me who you are?"

He laughs a little, then, because he thinks he really needs to stop finding himself in this situation. "Joshua William Foley," he says hoarsely, "Twenty-five. Born in Queens, son of Grace and William Foley." He looks around again, but can't see anything beyond the white curtains, and what little he can spy beyond the crack that Wang's left in the curtain barrier is also white. "What" –he pauses because damn if he is parched—

Wang seems to pick up on this, and hands Josh a glass of water.

It's definitely been sitting out for a while, but Josh downs the glass in one go, gasping for breath afterward. He feels himself starting to really liven up when he hands the cup back to Wang, and he says, "What happened?"

Wang gets a look on her face like she's deciding the best way to put whatever she's about to say.

"How long have I been out, then?" Josh asks.

"About twenty-two days," she responds at once,

" _Christ_ ," Josh says, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. An I.V tangled with his discarded N.C tubes stops him and he looks down at his wrists for a moment, at the golden skin around the tape where the I.V needle disappears into his arm. Then he begins taking everything out, pulling out the and yanking off the electrodes on his chest.

Surprisingly, Wang doesn't stop him. She doesn't even stop Josh when he climbs out of bed, legs wobbling a little as his feet make contact with a soft, matted floor.

Josh reaches out and pulls the curtain back and finds himself in –in a cell? He's in some kind of white padded cell, a similarly cushion-surface door a couple of feet in front of him and light coming from a fluorescent light high above him. There's a window up there, too, and it's dark outside.

He whirls around again. "Where am I? Where's –where's everyone else?"

Wang is apologetic. "It's just a precaution. We couldn't be sure how your powers would react. You were brought here with your power inhibited, and –it was very experimental medicine, I admit –and apologize –but the priority was to shut down Codename Pestilence and –well…"

Josh holds up his hands to his eyes. He doesn't _look_ wrong, from what he can see. He can't _feel_ anything, though, but he's in a S.H.I.E.L.D containment cell. He's not _meant_ to feel anything.

"We had Dr. McCoy inject you with the trial X-Virus cures. It wasn't pretty there for a while." Wang says quietly.

"You need to let me out," Josh says, already staggering toward the cell door, "I have to –I need to know if –if my powers—"

"We don't know how your biokinesis may have been affected by the stress of"

"- _damn it_!" Josh slaps his hand against the door, which is, naturally, knob-less and completely inaccessible from the inside.

"Elix –Josh, take a breath." Wang's voice is closer to him than he would've expected and he closes his eyes, leaning his forehead against the door and doing as she says.

"Whatever might have happened to him, you still _have_ your powers," Wang says, "Just look at your skin. You're back to yourself. Just breathe, alright?"

He does, inhaling and exhaling deeply. He opens his eyes and turns to Agent Wang. "What happened to Henry?" He knows, vaguely, that Sanders must have done something –shot him, most likely.

"Sanders shot your brother," Wang says, "But he's doing alright. He was discharged from the hospital a week ago and he's doing very well with bedrest at home. He's called every day to see how you are."

"And my nie –Lily? She's okay?"

"She's okay," Wang confirms. "She was a little surprised –her second mutation kicked in –Fulgarkinesis –so she's been figuring that out. I think Henry said something about sending her to Jean Grey's soon."

Josh just nods. Right. Okay. Henry's okay. Lily's okay. Howie is surely alright. "And…" He swallows hard, his next question sticking in his throat and pictures of a weak and bloody body flashing in front of his eyes. He doesn't know what to ask, what iteration of ' _Did I murder my boyfriend_?' will hurt less coming out, so he settles on asking, "And Julian?"

Wang is quiet for a moment, and then she reached out, resting a hand lightly on his shoulder in a comforting gesture. She looks at him steadily, her brown eyes soft, and when she opens her mouth to speak, Josh feels a cold wave of dread crashing over him.

 

 

* * *

 

_"You're thinking again,"_

_Josh tears his gaze away from the ceiling, rolling over onto his side to stare at Julian. "You realize that's a thing that most the rest of us do from time to time? Think?"_

_Julian snorts. His hair is half stuck up in all directions and he's sitting up with his back to the headboard, his legs stretched out in front of him. He's been examining his left gauntlet for the past five minutes, as far as Josh can tell, idly observing the details of the metal in the same way Megan studies the state of her cuticles from time to time. "What're you worried about?" Julian asks._

_"I'm not worried about anything." And he's not. He actually thinks he might be really, really okay in that moment, where it's just the two of them, out in California. He grins a little, and Julian stares at him, eyes narrowing slightly and lips pressed into a line that Josh knows means he's just trying to fight a smile._

_"Okay," Julian says finally, rolling his eyes and sighing dramatically, "Whatever. Weirdo." He leans down, kissing Josh lightly, before climbing up, off the bed. "Come on. We have dinner with David and Nori, and you still need to get dressed."_

_"_ You're _barely dressed," Josh points out, making a face –although –and he gives Julian a good once over –he's not complaining. He takes another moment, stretched out across the bed, watching Julian move around the room, picking a fresh shirt out of his suitcase, and plucking up his discarded pants from the floor._

_"Josh," Julian sighs, straightening up. He does a good impression of being annoyed, Josh thinks, but even four years later, Josh can sense when it's a front._

_He grins and stretches out his hands, wiggling his fingers, and causing Julian's frown to crack even more._

_"You're such an idiot, Foley," he says, even as he walks around the bed to take Josh's hands._

_Josh only laughs, letting Julian pull him up onto his feet._

* * *

 

 

There is an ache in his chest that makes it feel like he's being crushed, like he'll never be able to get enough air. Everything else feels fine, but Julian gets the distinct impression that if he moves even an inch, he'll be quickly acquainted with what it feels like to be recovering from actual, full body _death_.

He opens his eyes slowly, seeing nothing for a moment, and then seeing too much –too much light, too much color –all blurry. He squeezes his eyes shut again, and that's when he notices the warm feeling spreading through his body. It feels as though he's being covered in heated blankets, and soon, it encapsulates him completely. It's cozy. He thinks, vaguely, that he could probably stay, wrapped in the warm cocoon, for a long, long time.

Suddenly, he becomes distinctly aware of the noises around him, muted though they first sound. Julian can hear the soft hum of machines near his head, and then his own pulse on what must be a heart monitor, dialed down to a low volume.

The warmth begins to dissipate, leaving him feeling cold, until it only remains in his head, over his eyes. Then, he feels as though he's been dumped onto a bed, and the physical space around him comes into focus all at once.

Julian's eyes snap open.

He's in a hospital room, and his gaze slides over a whiteboard on the wall across from his bed, where the date is written: _January 19th, 2015_.

"Give him a moment," someone says softly. "Being healed and coming out of a coma that quickly will be disorienting…"

Julian looks over to his left at once, and he takes in the small crowd gathered at his side, noting in the back of his mind Dr. McCoy's smiling face, and next to him, Delilah, and Santo, and Cess, and Laura, and –and—

The last time Julian cried, _he_ was the one standing over Josh. He can feel the muscles moving in his face involuntarily, and he bites down hard against his lower lip, vision already going blurry again with hot tears.

He feels the bed dip under Josh's weights as he sits down, and then Julian feels hands on his cheeks, thumbs wiping away the tears that have spilled over and down his face.

"Jesus Christ," he says thickly, "Look what you fucking did –I'm a mess. Jesus." He gives a watery laugh and hiccups, and his vision clears just enough for him to look upon Josh, golden and alive, and _well_.

Josh looks like he's crying, too, and his hands tremble where they move down along Julian's face to his neck, along his shoulders, and up again, like he's just trying to memorize Julian's outline. "I'm sorry," Josh whispers, "I'm so sorry,"

"Don't," Julian says, "I'm okay. We're okay." He drags himself upright enough to wrap his arms around Josh, embracing him tightly. In his peripheral he sees Hank, ushering the others out of the room, and he then closes his eyes and presses his face against the side of Josh's neck, inhaling deeply, feeling the beat of his heart, pulsing under warm skin. "I thought I lost you again," Julian murmurs.

"I thought I killed you," Josh says, pulling back and looking at Julian with wide eyes, like he's seeing something amazing.

"I'm okay," Julian says again, "We both are." His tears have started to dry but still he feels something bubbling in his chest –laughter, now, maybe. Maybe a little bit of hysteria.

"We're okay," Josh echoes, and then repeats it again and again, pressing small kisses all over Julian's face -on his lips, at the corner of his mouth, on his cheeks, along his jaw -smothering him, really, but Julian doesn't mind one bit.  "We're okay," Josh says, and it feels like they've gotten away with something, the way he says it. It sounds like a song. It feels like a promise.

 

 

 

_fin._

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god. It's done.
> 
>  
> 
> Alright, so. That happened. There are a couple of story lines that still need to be tied up, but those'll probably happen in one shots that will be added to the series. Thank you SO much to everyone who has kept up with this fic, especially the amazing orchidbreezefc, who has always offered incredible support and encouragement to me over the course of this series.
> 
> :)

**Author's Note:**

> Please Review/comment!


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